Rarely, outside the box, home speakers, buttons,
And there are traffic jams everywhere, you will be timid here,
Better to be alone on a raft, and not with a sidekick in a boat,
In the sea of vodka, where the mountains are skyscrapers,
not one of those who are lazy in the basement, waiting for a stick for a hundred square meters,
In this picture, he left the crowd, where parties continue without stopping, like in a taxi after a beauty club,
I jumped into my sneakers and walk to a stop.
Wrapped in a hood, again my thoughts are confused, past the districts with familiar routes, the days pass by minutes.
They were forgotten as if we were stuffed with fast foods, iPhones, enany, their heads became trucks with garbage.
The clubs are full of fools, the boys are smoked in the trash, hundreds of people are here without ideas, their faces are broken or powdered.
