Текст песни Сергей Бабкин - Театр

Under the floor a hundred spirals tungsten
White-hot
The three walls and the fourth no - frame only,
And that is not visible

Just as in life there just is not so,
Refracting point of view
Wrenched from the inside out
distorted reflection

Between the sanctity of pure and impure,
Misfits all pridurivayas,
Only throat blood beats so naturally,
Ugly slouching and falling in the mud.

This creature medicine is not treated,
Even if bare hands,
Strangled, she just get mad,
And everything will start again on a new

Incident, Nava, good people,
Raking in the hem line their pockets,
Choose a comfortable place,
To look at the truth through deception.

To pull on the nose you enthralled,
The pleasure a pleasure,
Give you to eat sweet cakes,
And take away all right to drive