Текст песни Персона нон-гранта. - Тамада по неволе

Persons on the street resemble the endless limbs of the Dead Maiden
Looking at the hopelessness and the delapen of his existence to me hunt back
Blow up the top smear on this planet
Charon Boat Sailing
Along the way, dissipating myth about the existence of God
Depressive bastard, shmal with two hands
Hypocrisy and lies make up my circle
In an attempt to hide from these Shakalov
Filling my head, a mental qualaby
Loop on the neck
Sacred tags on the body
Dozen bullets from the trunk and you MiG shot
I will send to the best world the body of this silent uroda
Problems will be discussed in smoke, but I'm still bad
On the White Widow table
Empire one cant and straight in Window
Nakina Hood in an attempt to hide from thoughtless idiots
I'll shine a look into the floor, closing my eyes and I will blame their gods
Tamada in captivity. I as always one on the plowed field
As it would like to be free as you and calmly walk on the will
Somewhere sadness is a lubricant fucking,
While I am flying my hunting neutres herbs
The skin glands bones
Gradually leaving himself, it seems not to live to youth
In the atmosphere, rearned the caustic SMARD rotten people
In a burning church, I will arrange the parade of the right sermons
With cadyl in hand standing in one row with Mikhail
In the backyard, the cemetery land is a mixed
Dull Light Frames Dark Figures
Puster has several grams of sarative culture for me
Give OCB.
Prevent grass with PCP
Blind BLANT
I am floating in the distance
Write me with PGP
Hands in heads and bosses of dead fruit
Major and hard snow monetary
In it I will hide from the closures of cattle
I will render hatred and robbery a couple of houses