Текст песни Дмитрий Гузь - Минарет

There is no shortage of drinking companions,
And therefore almost do not want to bloom.
The tank cracks from subtletyels.
And the bed is scattered from the fellow trap.

Linen leaves, faces stare,
Music plays, buffet works.
And I am one solid ass,
I hope for someone's minaret.

From adventure to be done -
The dream of a provincial doctor
But there. Where is the street - on the street,
Usually it turns out a draw.

Portraits of flies rusted
Statties of clothing noses,
And, like flowers, citizens citizens
Carry slices smoked sausage.

Immensely women are fused
But to divide them to lust somehow not with the hands -
After all, circumcision is subject to
Here with extreme flesh as languages.

But in the hemorrhoidal candles
I didn't pull it away.
Let the cakes bake Easter
Cheeky, but all the holy rus.