Текст песни макулатура - зощенко

This is some text in them is not of social protest
I grew up but as yet has not ended childhood
and I'm still the same student coming home from school
on the day when my mother accidentally shoot lover

I am dragging a heavy bag autumn day trying to keep warm
at this moment somewhere uncle Valera shoots at heart
and I did not even cry when the news comes to him and my mother
death takes my father go from school to school

then suddenly institutions and suddenly I'm over twenty
changing city in the city are constantly changing work
and nowhere I am happy I did not constantly hunting
live quietly wait for something to pay for food and the metro

and like life it is not even scary but growing
paranoia in the transition they suddenly take my hand
We go so I just read into the microphone poetics garbage
just trying to write something in the spirit of Albert Camus

but flipping through printout of my live journal
no dick clearly my enemy will say point blank Agent Smith
doused by shit bureaucrats fag Semites
hear a recording of waste paper read notes

in my notebooks verses glyanet drawings and so on
I smile and say well we waited so long ago you
brother to go home it's time to close
it is time to return home from school to Mom

write a Zoshchenko or cheek
you cram society
and I have no more strength close, I'll be happy
a decent man to be a coward and a slave

Jam live in this world I can not believe
that people can seriously can become policemen
it's like on the cheek as a volunteer to wash by shit
I open my heart to everyone in the form it

or not I do not care at all were mum and dad
each hit the puddle twig spring home
went for a walk in rubber boots yellow-blue
me five years my friend, too stung by nettles

and crying my mother pours tea with him up
he likes to jam and cartoon about a black cloak
how could I guess it helped him become zaschekantsem
he joined the faculty of law in police practice runs

I was not opposed to tea, he showered the same amount of sugar
as in the past it seems to be even read bitching authors
well, except for Bulgakov, but it says it all colleagues love
The Master and Margarita My favorite book is now blasphemy

nothing I did not suspect it did not lose hope asshole
but overall, it was all the less he wants to increase
I read a book in the door suddenly bursting evil garbage
search lie to suck drugs counterfeit money

fag masked knocks me to the ground and I know that voice
Bulgakov and black cloak but you're my friend grew zaebis
the kitchen is in my sugar bowl heroin and cartridges
and I'm still glad now my friend will be a major

write a Zoshchenko or zascheku
you cram society
and I have no more strength close, I'll be happy
a decent man to be a coward and a slave