Текст песни Праца - 15. Тишину на абордаж

In hell devils dance
When the local rhymes are ebashut
Shaking air sickly poetry
And a stupid Russian language
Being a semi-sick verbat
And a lot of charms in that ...

And a lot of evil joy
And no, for me the highest sweetness
Than moral satisfaction
From read creation
From swirling words in verse
Or story
And even on a dialogue with poor
Do not regret nuclear phrases ...
I deliver myself free ecstasy
Not art for, and not for the mass
Just live once
And we are not looking for approval in the depths of other people's eyes ...

I love this language to madness
He is sharp as a bayonet
And in each row
As in a bayonet attack

And endless courage
As if pushed me
From yourself the last floor
Paper and pencil
Salfish Sabbath
The throat cut boredom
Silence on boarding!

2012.