Текст песни ЙЯХХХА - Про бошку, кошку и отстой

Something of us breaks through our gut
Leaving a fire behind
I think now almost every morning
That my head is a globe.

I wear this ridiculous boss as a core,
Reluctant to try to accept;
The weather is like a cat
Who loves to shed.

The palms are warmer in their pockets
The head is heavier than empty;
She's full of impossible plans
And you know it sucks.

Will draw along the dark boulevards
Make way for the lamppost,
And you, broken by some blow,
Going into winter mud.

You hear your own voice
And you twist - slightly downward,
And your phobos is walking with you,
Over the years, it has become more faithful than a hand.

From the habit of pain relieving the evening
It is harder and harder to refuse;
And you burn scented candles
Contemplating the flow of days.

You are as pale as the cloth of the moon
There's a great mess in your head
You see the side we're heading towards
But after leaving the basement, you go to the attic.

Hear me my brothers ...

My wilderness is getting stronger
I hear your silence!
I hear your silence!
I hear your silence!
I hear!..

There is no more room for sand in your fingers;
From now on, dope walks there.
You take your wicked, crooked longing
And you throw it into a pocket with holes.

The walls are splattered with deathly light
In the silence of a drunken moon
Systems are burning in your head
But you see the direction we are heading ...

Hear me my brothers ...

My wilderness is getting stronger
I hear your silence!
I hear your silence!
I hear your silence!
I hear!..

Darker and darker my despair
I can hear my silence!
I can hear my silence!
I can hear my silence!
I hear!..