Текст песни РОБЕРТ ФОНАРЁВ Х КОМРАД - 3 глупостей

and how much nonsense has killed a
seven days a week in the cycle of the huts of words on a bit
I grew up with these tracks, let everyone know how to bring down
see you and I you and I do not need to think globally

How many of you, I spent every penny of each
up every minute to see every last whitefish
how much I have given much power is wasted
without knowing what people need the same fucking people

do not believe as we wake up for the night and without thought
re-spend by going to a new risk but the same victim
just no one wants to make a choice
between this and that this and that used to suffer

at sunrise on the days plans pairs
how to squander an extra hour to spare shit to look for pockets
and do not have to be explained better
how much more you need to not have anything you need

we do not get a new day to work for us
work skills to stubborn to the world in his hands
Simply the best time for crumbs in his pockets
where self-General-General to find where to find yourself

* * *

a carefree laugh between years
I call if zhituha nastolgiruesh seventeen
time has sand in his hands and you know how many do not have time
and all that will leave only after his poem

sorry, and how do you want to live outside the body
in memory of relatives and photographs within the walls
our names on the lips dry up at their said
days after both went all the best with a pick

so in the pace a bit, we were whistling in the stream of time
countdown supposedly promise not soon
but suddenly and hands get dirty losses
what happens let us give air air

scars on the memory still itch
just press down the wrong myslishki awkward shorknis
do not get new hope of Taim
and only just did not get hurt, we do not try

pt