Текст песни ОУ74 - Из Грязи в Князи

Old nickels, miserable tithes,
Blue portaki, tracksuit.
Time flows so slowly into routine.
Gunpowder Boeing (?)
There is another picture on the heating main:
The Brahmins thump with a sad grimace,
And little Vasya snarls at them in the back.
Bottle of pepper, tincture of mountain ash.
I walk past, shaking the cabin.
I need to move, but half the money.
He took out the phone, threw the lighthouse.
Click-Clack (?)
And Monday is kind of ... not Tuesday.
Dressed for the weather, but the collar is raised.
Today is a normal day, there are hundreds of them.
Seasonal fuck, dick you remember there.
You get stuck and drown, and drown, and get stuck
In this paddock of shit and dirt.
The old man on the balcony had already taken root.
And what did he understand? What else will you remember?

In my understanding, beauty is absent here,
Banknotes beckon, greed accompanies.
All the way to those who are greedy for grandmothers,
They only remember when this is not necessary.
He will help as usual.
Human destiny reminds me of a match
Which in the light burn to the ground.
No one is eternal and there may be click-clack ...
Or maybe we are ... It is necessary
In the process, it’s someone on top who adds all our mistakes
It's hard to keep a clear conscience
If knee-deep in your shit and your hands in someone’s blood.

Hey, where did you go? Won't you fall?
You know stopuds, but pray to him alone.
A man with a sawn-off shotgun can easily break off plans,
Play a game and you are a corpse.
And it will be useless to try to yell:
Trash sleep and not pick up anyone.
And a man with a shotgun to the question "Why?"
Silent, because he knows only one.

There is no light in my room for more than a week.
Four walls and I, like a ghost.
Looking in the box - only spoil the vision.
Do you hear the singing from the window?
The mood to hell, the book is read,
The bong tube is visible at the right corner.
Every day is drama, crime,
Trauma to you, depression oozing through the screen.
There is murder, there the driver overslept the accident.
They carry him right there, they sew him up.
The wife roars, not whiskey and ice, but vodka
Soothes the soul by penetrating the throat.
"Doctor, what should I do, I have children after all?"
Regrets indifferently, he hears these nonsense all day.
From that and walks like a shadow, went to the orderly
"Calculate me one hundred percent"
"Now leaned back alone in the twenty-second chamber,
The wife says she’s left alone, crying. "
I switched the switch and the story went nowhere.

Lost in time of day, in time of year.
The hand on the watch cuts off the seconds
These meager on episodes of everyday life.
The hand on the watch cuts off the seconds
These meager on episodes of everyday life.

Around the decrees from the theater of the absurd:
Garbage hucksters, legal powder.
The author of this picture mixed up with a palette,
Looks like he spilled dirt, and then he spat.
Half-bodies rush from corner to corner,
Every possible move for the ruble.
Their days are waning like smoldering coal
One is awkward and it can go out right there.
The light of broken lanterns to the touch in the dark
In contrast with the city center, where
So much dirt in all this beauty
I looked point blank, but did not want to try.

Children kiss in the stinking darkness
The entrance is better than the room.
Smoke with cigarettes, drink port
Adults walk past, no one believes them.
Vodka with beer in a glass of fifty-fifty,
Girl leaves virginity in the elevator.
The buns are swollen, they hurt
The first bulbulators explode.
And where does this anger come from? This is for his mom.
A crowd fuck a man, he spits his teeth.
And the night of Saturday to Sunday
They seek salvation in brotherly eyes.