Мастер Теребоний - Заряд на создание великого - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

In this life, the walls have no evil, punch them with horseback on horse, not one person will not be born without words, beat himself blitz on the table.

Perverted by the darkness, shouted with light, will hide under the larger and until time, and will not stop his acts and the pause of God.

Since childhood, she woke up that fate - Mauser in the throat, where madness is equal to the murder, he did not mean in life.

His hypocrisy hurts, put on his feet loved pain.

He was with pleasure as a charge of current, every beat of a stone about the head of the animal brought no mental joy, he would not be, putting himself on the shelf.

But he fed in himself with one's all, the leaves are written, clean genius, for his relatives since the birth of a genius, sculptor. He is a sculptor.

And there is nothing anything to feed people, their need to stay at the bottom.

This person will not see the light, he is blinded by pollen inhale, exhalation.

For seven days, fishing without the memory of oddities.

Could create a person from body parts.

This is a miracle of Frankenstein, but killing without honor, could organize, get the body, get hands and legs, but God did not adopt such creation with soul.

Only in the anger shouted at our hero, beggingly at least the devil himself, he himself, who did not answer his father, did not answer the father of his son, even chant the god with sisana rags.

On the hands of only the dust, on the imprisonment of the soul in the clay shocks, he mastered the body from the inside, but the same case.

The accident and carved eyes, he himself went to the organs, how strangely, when the killer hostage becomes like a doll.

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Naude on the side of the head # B # Current Zesom, I fucked these ailments, you can R # SP # Ze ## bumps.

You can spend a scalpel to wear the flesh, the remains of the car to the coffin from the coffin are not shouting in the entire cavity.

Anger to eat Malva to X ## m, showing a spit into your pumped house, on that books burned with thunder of spiritual pain, force majeure in the madhouse.

Crawling a squall of persons, stop under the beer buoy, I will be your devil and gives the church.

Lyuto X # Rut House, my bargain your stream of emotions in the finishing half of hell.

DIE DIE DIE

In the head of Schizophasia, in the hands of Parkinson, go fuck with your argument, break my dust madman in the face.

I will give my chest and release all the dirt that reached your ears, made the corpses of Dimethyltriptamine mental ugar.

After all, I C # to # is silent, I blunder.

You can tear the Chelenge, tearing the carcasses of the drums.

In the sphere of gentlebobes, cut the throat to the trachea, if they are swing without air tight, I slam like a gun.