Текст песни Kotone - А. Гоголев. Про море

our city is like this:
or torture,
or a museum.
admit it honestly
I'm only here because of my friends.
you can put up with parts of your homeland
but can't stand the whole thing.
they wrote this about us,
what a gram of extraction and a year of labor.
and there is still no hot water,
the smell of trouble with nicotine and fumes in the air,
we work for food and an apartment,
it turns out that for nothing.
and we hump our backs,
ready for new blows.

for each: what about there?
the usual answer: what else do you want?
you have a computer, someone else's apartment
and a large supermarket nearby,
go to work, and walk evenly under God.
vote for one,
eat in a magnet
what the fuck you Moscow and what the fuck you Peter.

this is how we work as cheesemakers,
we produce free cheese.
the rest is just a cinema, a zoo and a circus.

here they also talk about the rational-eternal:
Please, they say, not this one.
we have not a temple here, but a torture chamber,
not a school here, but a museum.

so sorry if you missed something.
conscience and pain are placed only in the train station,
but I understand that I can't get out at all.
you can take out a sailor from the sea,
they say that the sea cannot be taken out of the sailor.