Текст песни Искусство Быть Мадридцем - Дезинсектор

Now I need the exterminator,
To the things you no longer smell
Broken fingers, lacerations,
Pain will start in spring
How can tantrums, I insane
Maybe you can, too, you just
I hate to be miserable,
But how many do not try all the time, once

From under the skin crawl out paint
Blue paint, then turn yellow
We should not, do not, do not, do not have to
Not worth it, no one has no regrets
Word nothing for a long time do not mean
Do you like what you said jellyfish
The wind was blowing, froze the soul, but even
And he did not expect to reach the pockets

About spiders and we sing about rock
No longer must I listen to it all
I know that I am insane
Country, the country worst summer
In the fall worse than it once was
Shoot! Take my pistol!
We junkie! We are pathetic!
We are waiting for the exterminator!