I walk past quasi-mods to quasi-mod city
They scream "freak, get out"
Back barefoot, hoof pounding like a goat
Though green like a zero in this casino
Everybody wants to sell their bolt, but I would like to put it
To power and a throne, to a private house, to a paparazzi swarm,
But I hear again a different rut and phrases they say
"You're cool, but I'd rather listen to the fagots again."
Blank slate, I'm unique like Mister Smith
My fucking inner world fits into a tweet
They write to me: brother, no offense, your rap does not roll - no offense
come on, no offense, fuck you, no offense
I run to the pharmacy, the floor is stained with blood
I need pentalgin, playfully, half a pack in the palm
A healthy lifestyle will be the way
Unfulfilled dream, fantastic dream
Come on, tell me again that I already know
In this room, where there is always darkness and no light
She repeats obsessively "what will music give you?"
Will give nothing, but you will not be allowed to take the last
And then I will ask her: "What will give you
Your venal life? ", In response only caustic phrases.
They have one excuse, they say, "we live once"
But I will reveal a secret - you never live.
Ariadne's thread led to a dead end.
Morden is in touch, Lovelace is killed.
Where are your heads, I sneak into them
Ready, but the copywriters in them erase my pirate face
Good, good, good on your record book
I have in it deduced "fuck you got out of here"
Raised nothing on rap, like the hands of a squish
But collecting the verse again, like Rubik's hypercube
I'm wearing headphones - doesn't mean I'm a music lover
I'm wearing headphones, so don't fuck me
Between them there is real movement
Do you see the red ball above the horizon? So I don't see.
And so many times I have already heard a ton of these loud phrases,
Then the speakers will nervously deny them,
After all, here dresscode is the presence of masks
And the face control will check that there is no face under them
