КЕДР - Сочится крамола - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Chicky chicky ding dong God's house caught fire

And all the slaves burned in it with pictures - I’ll dream about this. I'll whisper from the horrors of Poe to the banter of Sacha Cohen in your ear, like Ole Lukoye

Like Ole at the foyer, since this Fraulein desired, rags and fire will make friends with Lukoil fuel tankers

We are driven by prairie dingo benefactors, not domestic cows sleeping in a dirty stall.

Scattering the cartridge cases, the primer will prick the needle

Let's reach with intellect and lead, pain in the temples

And if the door with the Dagon sign is ajar and the light of both worlds illuminates from both sides, go into battle

For each cross on the chest we put the sun zero or we will burn everything down to the zero with napalm

14 for experience, two eights for damage

The one who does, bro, will reach the top, not the one who prays

Go through life with your fists raised proudly and your chin pressed to your neck.

I believe that the spirit of Mescalito will very soon become your ally.

For now for now for now for now

Let the Navi rivers flow forever and onto the gravel yo, tavi-tiki-riki

I am a wild mongoose, gnawing the heads of snakes under the frenzied roars of my pack

This was correctly noted by the Signalmen, routes along the alloys bubbling on the body of the kon-tiki

I put my hands on the line, I look hard from under my forehead, hysterics, nervous tics

Mystery gave us the highlights, and then you yourself go to these reflections

The thunderstorms in June of the cold gray summer are forever imprinted in my eyes.

Even if you shout into a well, even if you dance in a church, you still won’t hear an answer from God.

From space it is not the eye of the acrobat and the bicycle that squints, but the pulsars of the planets

But no, no, we don’t need to hurt, we’re not a mistake ourselves

Large calibers will drill holes in smoked bodies and shining drones

The foliage whispers my name, somewhere in the forest crowns, pulls the candy wrapper of the spinner

I keep looking, afraid of finding myself in different circumstances, everything is a dream.

I should sniff the paths of the North, be on guard, keep my eyes open in the dark

You will hardly remember where we saw each other before, where my image arose

Where the prototype was found outside the fuss to demarcate in order, execute the divergents

Without a treasury, without a bag and without a funeral feast, to take revenge on them with freshly broken reeds.

The path is illuminated by the agishyalm and the vegvisir compass

Your good god wanted humility so that I would be sir

But I don't believe in this bullshit, forgive me, sir

Pray and dance further, the puppeteers' ball

Look at your fucking freaks - parade of freaks

The memory of the north is stored in the mitochondria of the people

Our ancestors sprout in concrete crumbles

Coal from the ashes will purify the magic of seething waters

Like this. I’ll apply for a flugtag and fly over the surface of the water in a nice variation of the Luftwaffe

The machine gun belts are filled with punches, which means be more attentive, sing to the beat, aim at the track

In order to catch the ascending currents in the attack without falling into a dead loop in fact into darkness

The act of sexual intercourse with your head is the only way the cedar group mentally acts.

We preferred a staccato of expansive wasps to a glass

Whoever tries to prove us otherwise is the enemy.

I don't care what you cast - strength or mana

Tambov comrades are already running into the ravine

And soon we will come out of hiding and sing like the wind in the field

The palisade poles reveal the heads of the rotten ducalis and larin

In underground drifts, gnomes smelt wunderwaffles in bombars on Maryino

I'm waiting for them to shred your stinking Moscow

And the explosion will be stronger than Garin's hyperboloid

I always wanted to become a tattoo artist, catch the abbot and tattoo a portrait of Gagarin on my entire chest

You can lay on us, dig under us, tell everyone that white rap is oxymoronodissonancedecadence

But look at those who move for their people

And know that these people made their choice correctly.

The dug-up cattle burial grounds remain silent until the thawed patches of March

Our mouths are shut, but sedition oozes even from our eye sockets