Текст песни Funnyman - Уголь

On the night of the fifth to seventh ,
Either at night , or in the morning,
Whether the stone in the winter ,
Whether ripe spring ,
Sitting in a fiery cauldron ,
I cranked coal.
The feeling that a simple bowels
Formed barrel ,
In that jump songs
And notable choruses .
Galloping demons stairs ,
A seasoning stink .
Cool skull I picked up from the shelf ,
Blew away the gray dust and eye crow holed .
World I godless hoof unyal ,
Yes tank bosses.
In a way it was time -
The path and went .