немногогрустный - Изгой - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

The existence of interactive

Hands continue to freeze from cool wind

People are looking for meaning in sessionless, because the nerves will be drunk each other

I existed on the edges of many wrists, not one hundred times tried to write poems in notepad

And now for the hundredth time I stand in front of the choice, but tired of taking an "internal idiot"

And therefore from this day - I stop feeding the ever-sitting freak

This is my new style, my personal right, my freedom and, I hope that at least now - stop disappointing mom, once over time

Human mockery and my rotten poems

Constant headaches, forgive me

I'm probably just sick, excavating the inner element

Only a shovel threw out, and the revealing revenue forgot

I was taught to take the world what he is

They were taught to obey properly, not to look at others, earn everything else and rarely, but so nicely praised for my little successes

I loved to please my parents, because it's nice - feel their pride for your child

But such pleasant rules have not led me

I grew up sad, mamina care

Father's dependence, fraternal hatred

And nursing uks, I'm just tired of being forever "familiar"

Empty person, not only inner

Disgust yourself externally, tightly clipped

Again only by ourselves

On the already gentle soul is decorated

And all that remains inside, this is farced that blow

I pretend to be a proud bastard in order not to seem

boy that is afraid of losing mom

Fear be again unrecognized, expelled

And it seems so expensive everywhere, but how hard

Hear everywhere that society discusses

Already nothing saves

Every heresy that is not intravenously

Only a view of a rainbow spectrum covers

And again your little hands, blue-eyed gleam

I would like to learn to sink

Then, without questions - became your personal diver

Scablange with infinite O2, without any left wish

Human mockery and my rotten poems

Constant headaches, forgive me

I'm probably just sick, excavating the inner element

Only a shovel threw out, and the revealing revenue forgot

And again your little hands, blue-eyed gleam

I would like to learn to sink

Then, without questions - became your personal diver

Scablange with infinite O2, without any left wish

I feel only yours - tender touch