Текст песни Padla Bear Outfit - Похороненный марш

I'm losing my temper today
i stop public transport
finally I'll see who thought they were friends
you have to pay money where the passport is
the robber prepared a handkerchief
the conductor will hold out a piece of paper
smells like pine and windy earth
summer summer summer lucky sultry sultry sultry

my buried march
my buried march
my buried march
my buried march

I wanted to be cremated I was buried
it won't be in the news feed
they hardly come to me
guests left a couple of hundred bones
my my ashes are on your lips
it is unlikely to stop the clicking of the clock
I will be deaf to requests for appeals
you love gold the deceased loved whores