Текст песни Pseudo - Синдром ярости

Nine in the morning, and it is time to work, my life
The faces of the parabola, juggernaut hits in the cube.
Old has become a habit, there is no sleep,
The allegory is clear, I'm not tired to fight bitch
Ryder wrote a remark fathers
Your copyright on the suction, zero, spent boss
Down Syndrome is not Dybenko, furious pressure on the brain
Two hemispheres roam but they have not grown together
Pathetic poster, fell from the edge of the idea.
The meaning of the oak gave a loser, anal do not touch children.
As the last character, sharpening sharpening, crosses.
Pull better snot, become straighter in bits
Rotation with a gag, round hat without bile.
Your sense of smell brings you, authenticity With feces
As planned this fight zigaboya move.
Bigots leave in zinc, simpleton pass.