Текст песни BLANK - Ядерная Война

Kh-kh.
In the dust and soot, finding himself on the floor
I try to get up, pull myself up
About once I built a windowsill.
And now, only a molten, burnt, unrecognizable creature.
My hut is only half-coal half-ashes.
The planet grabbed the bazooka like Aubrey Gabriel's fist.
Outside, a watery sun breaks through a dim ray through a gray-blue fog.
Kerosene is dumb here, he could not have survived such annihilation.
Angelic civilization. He will not take yo for walkie-talkie, rotation.
No, I have to wallow, current flow, dreaming of a dropper.
The taste of metal in the mouth, the air is saturated with smoke and humidity,
And about my epidermis leans hot cold.
The thoughts of the pessimist came true.
Our once green spot is wiped off the face of the Earth.
I see acres of deserts covered in ashes.
Some fields and nuclear ruins.
No dogs, birds, horses.
No hours, faces, calendars.
This is not a dream, not a song, forget it.
After all, then that evil disappeared, where else to get angry when there is no meaner?
Once dusty, and in the web a red button,
Now gobbled up the fingers of godless, heartless nits, vomiting nuclear mushrooms.
A bunker of grievances and mean, cowardly, arrogant egoists who went inside, pushing everyone around.
And with them came our dear, harmless children,
Left there by their dead mothers
Wandering and astray, burnt spirits whine and howl in the darkness.
In the darkness, in the gloom We are at the bottom, as if hell avenged.
I want to pray, but if there is anyone to pray, then give me water to wash.
Give me a reason not to be angry, give me my city where I lived without a father.
Give me back my tires, my needles, let me see the tit,
Let me know that you are not capable of this, I dream of it.
Give me strength so as not to dabble and not to sleep.
After all, I do not sleep, and I do not dream.

Good evening, I'm Cyborg, this is Tibor McMaster,
Good peace, the eternal morgue, is deprived of a city of power.
Maybe I'm crippled, devoid of limbs,
But they still perceive me as Masters.
After all, under my window my name is Servants of Wrath.
And I'm ready for every journey, where are you bitches ?!
Strange, they ask to find the Lord of Wrath,
To paint his face on all the created walls,
The temples are his pseudonym, Luft, Dolph and Cauthen.
I will hunt for him, as for Ms Mask, Rap
As for Temchy and Slimz, Krim and Mouse.
As for Da Tempo Bes, Misha High, Adamant.
Misha Hai, where is your repulsed authority? Lord anger, he and the highest priority,
Lord Wrath but like Krim, Bes, Slimz, Misha - there are no others.
The rest of the former committee does not breathe immunity.

The purpose of the trip is to find the finalist,
The culprit of the disaster, Cauthen.
He was a scientist who created and detonated these bombs.
But for me, these taniers are just for trial.
They are no problem. Listen to my antique stuff.
Take a turn back, anti-strops.
Around me, 51 is one servant of anger, 49 Christians.
But after Cauthen’s death, there is a place for us.
On the way, I met quite a few fairy-tale characters.
Starting from Canada to Riga, Kazakhstan, China to Rashi.

Dimon, Bogus, Miz-z, Khai, Sifo and Mr. Hyde, Tanir, the Alphabet, Link, Kaval and Aldesame.
They all have Good Bye.
As a result, you have to write the image of the future loser.
Lord of Wrath, this is Without, Slimz, Hai, a blow to your stomach.
Do not hold evil and sit at the table together, here is a feast.
Watching how the last two seasons have been like a post-nuclear world.
Our world was killed not by God, but by vile human nature,
After all, look at my actions over the past two years.