НЕ.KURILI - Не рад - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

They crammed with dicks, Ida complain about mom, beat off his legs, beat the resentment with stones. Ha ... and why? Why? And for what?

Nobody sees it, looking because of the curtains.

And in his eyes a strong storm, he wanted, but did not go,

He could, but did not, no, Braton didn’t. He flew from these fucked things,

Who fucks someone, who had anyone.

Wait not to leave, so I'm not afraid alone, stay to sit, my good friend Nicotin.

It doesn't hurt me, I'm used to it, delicious smoke under the collar,

The brother comprehended the truth, waking up of joy.

Strong rain will wet my eyes to me

I'm not the same with who can be completely with.

I am one of those who are for a light laugh,

Who for a drunken ardor, the liver has broken.

Chorus:

Send my life on a sheet

I will send him back.

Your bullet treats me a temple

I would like, but I'm not happy.

"2 times."

The cold city does not sleep at night, people like a zombie.

We turned blue into a hobby, and friends in a copy.

People as accepted to fuck, all pizdabols: "Hello!"

Greed does not destroy only those who do not steal, but rule.

The world clogs our brain, all dumb advertising.

Smoke will not extend our life, but it’s easier to live when in the plate.

We'll be sorry for the time, for us all who decides,

All the time something prevents the abyss and soberly breathe.

I would be glad to return everything, but somewhere there was a difficult path.

Feelings of mutuality lie, love is ordinary dregs.

In the eyes of your relatives, you will quench that you can’t wash it.

I am his mat in the morning, a friend is habitual for you to live like that.

I would like to hide from everyone, but in my eyes it is visible.

All these years I poisoned myself too. I'm ashamed.

It's a shame for friends that the watermen are doing the needs,

It's a shame for his father, which is not, but so needed.

Chorus. (2 times)

Silence ... leaves the door under the lock,

And I know this thick smoke under the ceiling.

There was a law, faith, friendship, and a little important,

Everything would be preserved, but no, smeared with soot.

And someone in Vryatli will say: “Where are we going?”, Dear warm and we will rave in the darkens. There the calendar is shabby, washed sheets,

We leaf through life. Where? Choose ourselves. Old buildings, stage, on the hourly route,

The people are ordinary highlighted by the "king and the jester."

Everyone except jokes, contemplating is not spitting on us, keeping the body into a dark - pink shelter. They will forget, I’m sure, but they will understand one day, this forgotten meaning is in a pencil sketch.

And vryatli will become important.

Like a puzzle, breaking the phrase on pieces.