Текст песни Канонада в гробу - Груз 200

Cargo 200. Black tulip.

1. Need more gold.
We need wood.
We need to build a Ziggurat.
Fresh meat.
Fresh blood

2. Mass grave.
The cannonade was buried.
Fresh meat.
Fresh meat.
Fresh meat.
Fresh meat.
Fresh flesh.
Fresh flesh.
The trigger is pressed.
From the madhouse, op.
The trigger is pressed.
Fresh flesh.

3. A healthy spirit in a dead body.
A numb fact to the flag.
The distraught eye under fear.
Fresh meat is the guardian.

4. Ouroboros.
Vitriol.
Catharsis of dissonance has grown into the ground.
There is a young sprout in carrion.
Cross.
Rotten cemetery.
Churchyard.
The diagnosis of schizophrenics is so simple.
Healing and resurrecting all the dead -
War-worn question.
The trigger is a vice.
Ouroboros.
Vitriol.
Rotting is a question of war.
Your coffin is ready.
The mess is my friend.
Robber of souls.
The marasmus groan is an eternal dream.
GULAG Archipelago.
Clenched into a fist.
Tar cartridge.
Through the gap of the rulers of the heads.
Tar cartridge.
In your temple.
Destroyer of souls.

5. Hinge - oven.
Everyone is on a rope.
Messivo on the scaffold.
Loops in the palm.
Build a Ziggurat.
For the glory of Nerzul.
Life for Nerzul.
For the glory of Nerzul.
Life for Nerzul.
Sleep in a mousetrap.
Bombardment.
Bear trap.
Glass of vodka.
Bombardment.
Our Ziggurat is a ruse.
Lead leaf.
Lead rain.
The banner is covered in blood.
In the sky is the GULAG.
Archipelago.
Black Tulip.
Corpses are flying.

6. The art of digging your own grave.
The skill to puke it to the brim.
The art of falling into a pit afterwards.
Be a connoisseur of a skilled home.
Where rotten meat is trampled.
Tendons. Find their use.
Become a mischievous necrophile.
And under the moon, from the grave, to all eternally yell:
“This is my fortress!
Anyone passing is a snake.
Ouroboros.
Vitriol.
Lead rain.
Bloodshot eyes.
Sing along with your beloved dead.
Whisper as you exhale, hope ...
What is it - you. And you rush to Paradise.
Or for creative ones - to Hell.
Meet Pushkin.
And to a duel - shoot yourself.
Having acquired the system.
The pattern of history.
Hang yourself with a scarf.

Need more gold.
Suffer.
We need wood.
Suffer.
Build a Ziggurat.
Suffer.
Fresh meat.
Rotting is a matter of war.
Fresh blood.
Your coffin is ready.
My fortress is my coffin.
Ori! "

7. Lead of the sheet.
Zinc temple.
Lead rain.
Cargo without a face.
The banner is covered in blood.
This is a load of 200
In the sky is the GULAG.
Glass gloom.
In every eye.
Archipelago.
Black Tulip.
Corpses are flying.
The commemoration is like that.
Drunk in the flag.
There is only poison inside.
Anointed with alcohol.
On the cross on the grave.
Face on granite.
The deceased comrades.
Forgotten there.
Not found in the spring.
For by whom are they eaten.
The flame is baptism.
Crucifixion in bodies.
Worn over the head.
Smoked all the incense.
Dialogue sounds:

- In such a coffin, but without eternal love and spring?
- Our eternal love and spring .. long ago in the afterlife
looking for lanterns.

An old woman with a scythe is laughing somewhere close ...
The blade of the scythe flashed in an instant ...
And nobody knew what would be funny.
That everyone is so .. it will be funny ...

8. A freedom fighter is raising a son alone.
A little boy was cleaning a gun ...
The freedom fighter in the room cried out:
"Goal! Our team scored! "
And thin fingers are on the trigger.
Twitching
boy .. fright crushes.
Eyes whistled into the ceiling.
Idiocy: Fool.
Six-zero.
Such a pain….
The cry of a fighter. Broken voice.
So much freedom is not worth it ...
So many spent money and nerves.
Freedom is not worth it.
Idiocy wins forever.
The one who did not survive is a fool.
Idiocy all the foundations, patterns
bypasses.
After all, the world is not based on it. Not sharpened POD.
Fool
out of their own stupidity ...
Falls early. Falls into darkness.
Universe of black holes.
Into the empty eye sockets.
You stink
like cheese ...
D.T.