Текст песни фкупрфукр - Бедный дизайнер

I - a poor designer,
I work for food.
I draw signs with food
And I drool.

Images beckon,
But I eat them I can not.
My thin body flies
In Khrushchev hole.

I - a poor designer.
I steal food from vagrants.
I leave clues:
saliva droplets drop my leaves.
Beachy find me,
It is painful hit in the face.
I'm going to the printers
With bruises on the thighs.
I confessed to him that I am a designer
And they stopped beating the poor thing.

I - a poor designer.
I kiss on the lips zhiruh,
Though from the saliva in my heart
The fire was extinguished passion for a long time.
I long tongue
From someone else's stomach
I take out the wine,
And the chicken breast.
And what is not destroyed
Gastric juice.