Текст песни Полигон - Мы Идём

In a crisis, the crisis of the soul genre,
Fashion runs backstage whip
The currency can not be exchanged for a pittance,
So we ought to accept, we must endure.

According to the fashion we are moldy,
It dried up so that it is not eaten by mosquitoes.
Minor chords for a long time perepreli.
The semantic load of belongings as the rind.

This context is a protest!
It is not for the batch of plaintive plays.
This break through the darkness with fire
Ears open - we go!

Stunted brains in the chaos of delusions
From rusty Reda and from the media of the masses,
Dub my town aspect credo
And it is given to millions of eyes.

Oblomov takeoff only give birth,
And verbiage like dew.
Our statutes vosprizvodyat:
Fluttering like a butterfly, sting like a wasp!