Текст песни набор строк - Цветы для Джереми Рона

* didn’t notice the elephant *
I numbed at the end, so now.
I just need to
Wearing flowers at Jeremy Ron’s grave,
Fuck a dumb shmar and eat a Lada - here is my ceiling
Believe that happiness depends on the number of bitten apples
On the covers of scattered equipment
Making up home coziness
Do you believe that yourself?
The trembling hands of the mirror hit.
He became the last illusion to keep safe.
Do you remember.
I just want the chicks to get it
They listened to me on the windowsills, wrapped in a warm blanket
Wanting to make sense, drown in the bowels
But I'm not Jacques-Yves Cousteau, I won’t save them
I am only capable of putting out lighthouse lights
And stand on your head.
How at the work of Jean-Sebastian Monzani

This artist is invented, you never saw him
Was his life Google given to me?
I caught letters with a binary signal, but could not make out the meaning of this name.
I could not forget your fingers on the gloss of a French photo book.
I could not get around this in the text and now I'm lying like,
suffering Merlin Manson, boasting that he is still obsessed with demons
But asking on the porch not to look for meaning in the songs.

Although Sergey Gordeev hardly listened to Brown Warner
The player probably had some sort of Russian rap
Something about the assembly hall, and how she got AKA,
Wait is it black old or another OG? Omega Gangsta.

I numbed at the end, so now.
I just need to
Wearing flowers at Jeremy Ron’s grave,
where, together with the corpse of a rat, the meaning of the album is hidden.
Or in the room of laughter answers to questions
With which I tortured adults in childhood, I can finally find it.
Do you believe that yourself?
The trembling hands of the mirror hit.
He became the last illusion to keep safe.

I stupefied at the end, so now
I need to dedicate albums only to adult movie stars
They bite their tail
and curl up into uroboros.

I stupefied at the end, so now
I need to dedicate albums only to adult movie stars
They bite their tail
and curl up into uroboros.

So what is the album about? Are you copying Tyler again?
NOT! Marshall Matters.
And i wish my mom to have a better son.