Текст песни скептический - снегирь

09.Bullfinch

one-two-three cockroaches walk in my head
a horde of reptiles would only be dispersed by Makarov
and I, as usual, not a gift with a purple bow
for every jamb the gods are preparing significant damage
whiskey cheap and bourbon take away all shekels
here from ethyl we forget interjections
and the names of your favorite social media characters
sometimes it seems that life lacks speed
Czechoslovakian will warm you with talk about the past
in which you are still jolly jerking in a drunken moshe
however, "youth, goodbye" still gives an opportunity
do not die while the solutions are heated on spoons
so far the veins are not fed by the bodyag
but depressions in time still fill my flask
sugary, tasteless poison, like a yaga
time to vomit shit at the holiday parade

and sew up all the tunnels by order of the commanders
put tattoos under the pullover before the first wash
rip the tags off the shells, yearning for weeks
suffering in one, under alcohol expecting an eclipse
alcohol and coffee, nurofen, pieces of flesh
and everyday workers are like a knocked-down bullfinch on the hood
like an empty glass left on the bar
in which there used to be dreams of solar freedom

one-two-three earwigs walk in my head
handing out to-do lists at the morning meeting
and try not to fulfill one thing, you will be eaten alive
all your truth will be replaced with explainable false
aggression under the skin in any of the provinces
where beer cans induce senses
and under the "garage" eyes-saucers will change
girl fills her mouth with Durex contents
how the cornmen fly packages around the rooms
a fucking soul cannot be saved with a cross or icons
nor the secret that remains of the likeness of faith
in those fables of Krylov that are broadcast on the news on the "first"
all hands are striped according to the DSBM
the city chooses a new victim to replace
at prices this world is not worth more than a cent
falling on the head with stones weighing a centner