Текст песни Hans Wurfelig - Комета

What a setup, run out of cigarettes
I'm going to buy them, I do not know, but where am I?
No cannabis, we Skurov,
No bottles, all of them in the holes
All that was left somewhere in boots
Smoke breathing in our smiles
Cotton legs striding across ditches
More jazz - this is my medicine
Grey road and the gray sky, light cap
Chagall on snow
The truth is with me, and in my ghetto
The light precipitate, I expect an answer
There is smoldering inside a comet
Fly, comet
On the inhale and come out of the body
Then you wait, and I otedu
Out of this world directly into heaven
Soon I'll be back here, back
Immediately you will understand that I do in meat
Rearrange syllables it is not fashionable
All I was trying to say
Do you understand
At 4:20 charged by Bong