Текст песни Dead Poets - о Тайлере Дердене

Verse 1:

A thief of time changed a piece of chalk for belts
from the opinions of a flint flame of laziness do not catch deeds
with him vis-a-vis luck zero stack of soul mirrors
Will cover the soot of dust on the hooves of those who dance in lies
wishing to learn the oblivion of dance with a drawn bark
why judge the purgatory puppies within themselves, messengers
for centuries the stone of the tribe was grinded in a binge
outlaws are here like the ghosts of Goy chasing a potion of peace
who like to be poisoned by mold covered with the principle
clinging to the prices of temperate words with a certified tape of years
The citadel of the origins of the chronicle fences armor with rent
in the corridors of the blood points of the body, truly becoming a courier
powders rituals pillowcases twenty-fifth
night crumpled with mint gasoline gray burning plastic
Office Rat Gnawing Plastic Stickers
from the grins of the central scandalous channels
tricks of the counterpart with enviable accuracy are pasted phrases
second phase wings in a unique knot under the toilet
copily over and over again penetrating the temptations
strangle, cut the fetters to break free and like in the morning
do you want to be in the cover?
caressing your trembling in the bed of the victim's desires to the foot

deceased passers-by throwing bodies alive under the knives of priests

looking for you from the cradle

in the soot of burnt paper houses

where are the important guards in your face

pill everyone

new cover on the asphalt

solve the cases of the ready
hurrying to Jehovah
breaking the halo from the bezel like talcum powder after cotton
the crows will pull the trap the screams of the walls of the gray-haired skyscraper

Uncle Sam will sink in the bosom of the blast wave with a new outcome
reluctantly sweet perfume fuse letting into the smell of soap
from the nerves of women, the stalls of the world are full of nitroglycerin
foam planet straitjacket on the feather bed
wraps his hands with feather-beds, pouring morphine into the blood
to the end of the carnage with a clip of alter-ego eyes
your personal chartered god makes the diagnosis