Текст песни Homoludens - Слева

Hump ​​was left was called poetry,
Humbly staring at passers-by.
He knew that the whole being annoying them,
If a game is only played into the box.
Omuta, chasm-by-turn
I waited uncover alpenfal realism.
Kitsch is the fact that the working breed,
Not responding to emails gentlemen.

Blood was left was the poetry.
The dirty chalice collecting her Cain,
From the old wounds, stab
Rusty knife and Occam's razor,
Having written them indulgence rave,
Lick style, so that the crust drizzled
As a plaster, holding a whip
In Durkee on your backyard.

The mind was left, grew up in poetry,
Hodu preventing bliss needles.
The skull is covered with black mold.
The broads looked for proud femininity.
Digging themselves holes in the other falling.
Peel to remember lied to know.
Everywhere was looking for something that is not enough,
Not looking under the bed ..