Текст песни Мутант Ъхвлам - Бройлер Творой

Cat dreaming headless chickens,
Benefit Vinokur in the dining room,
Pilaf, where fingers are instead of meat
Razor safe cut the salsa
Dogs bite, birds attack
Refused to pay tribute to tradition
He covered his ears, it didn’t get better, there were wet puddles
Already cooled dinner, drunk James Belushi
Creaking toilet door
The script is faithful for many years
Mouth on the revolver - blood on the wall,
There is no mercy in this.
It’s not getting dark today
The body is stiff
Don Costello killed an esthete in himself
With Siberia tête-à-tête
Chews a bandage with a catheter
I loved karate, but not from you
Then they hammer the spice and drink kvass.
All fate is such, I yearned
We were separated by an escalator
We will be taken away, distributed among the wards.

Kotu dreams of dead chickens
And I still have a jacket under my jacket,
On the street may cold, deadlocks fetters.
A haze fell upon the city again under a purple cloud of smoke
There is Violetta with an empty bucket,
And I walked by ford to a whisper of leaves
Where they rose, streams of sun poured from the sky
The future shines beyond the horizon - burns with gold.
By whose laws is shame? Is the world blown up?
Another moment and everything is illusory.

Kotu is dreaming of dead chickens.
Honey, beer, smoke. The mustache does not flow.
And the black man is silent in a rag - etiquette
Do not wet the prints, weakness in the crowd withers
on aromaticly washed cabbage soup
You are wise as Confucius, plaintively sing the hymns of the sun on the radio of fables
In rusty pipes, worms in the soil and jacks are thrust under the tambourines;
and concerned: the peoples of Africa, rare species.
Aren't you sick of this, calling yourself Frederick? cut the rope
The tones and piles of bales of waste paper will become coarser, they will make you whine and moan the dog on the moon
And the shepherd dreams of identity
The floor is gray, don’t leave for good - come back tomorrow.
The whole world is closed, a slurry of facts, but for now, you were wiping candelabra over the ashes
And stroked the tapestries, it boiled out bohemian someone flew over the city deserts
The most environmentally friendly package and females will technically raise eyebrows in the lobby from such a low-fay
The glass is full, "Tefal" is still thinking about you and will be above the tops of the fives of the gloss of powder
Hands wave the new morning, and the cat dreams of dead hens.