Текст песни pers. - почувствуй

Feel like a Vietnamese whore
Fucked by a company of American soldiers
Make your house collapse
And you'll still have the same chances of going to hell

You can't hide from thoughts
Can't pick it out of your skull with a spoon
The thoughts are dancing in my head and dancing
Gutted both hemispheres
Calculate the probability of an event
Losing battles based on the strengths of the enemy
Without seeing his weak, the blind man commands the parade
Looking for a place to die of old age
Looking for fresh water in an ocean of weakness
Standards, gossip and illusion
Let's omit the fact that we are just clumps
Negative and positive energy
Running after time despite laziness
And even if the watch can be glued together
Then the arrows on them are no longer there
But what doesn't kill makes you stronger
What doesn't kill - makes you think about death more
Decide. Do you feel lost
Or are you still waiting for help
Looking for her in "catalysts"
Liquid, solid, gaseous
There is no truth in substances
There is only a short holiday
Alcohol loses its taste
Burnt out light bulb
Partly to blame for the thoughts of the pack
Partly the remnants of the mind were puzzled:
Joy is not necessarily happiness
And happiness is not necessarily joy
The old camels set sail
And already new ones joined the caravan

Break anything in your life
Like life itself
Become an example for those below
Bets are placed. We are waiting for the prize.

Childhood dream is to become an ice cream maker
The cheeks are hollow. Now only by the undertaker
Or load boxes with a night loader
Start delivering pizza in the evenings
To each according to his merits. Will be rewarded in the future
To each according to his actions. We are waiting for the final
And here everything is still relative
To whom is a fashionable tuxedo, and who is a ragged sweater
Someone drenched in alcohol, and who has a breakdown in the toilet on a cold tile
Negligence a dark shade of life's palette
The deck is wet. Wouldn't be thrown overboard
Motives in my head - birds are chirping
The sign in the head - it's time to fix it
One half is already in the grave
The second takes part in the soap opera
But there would be quality instead of quantity
It would actually be much better
Well, now this bunch of fragile reeds
And the feeling that I'm standing on the edge of a cliff