Партия Безвластия - - Неформалы - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

When the moon is already hanging, we put on our outfit: Martins boots and bright camouflage, A wristband on my hand, a bottle of vodka in my backpack, And my belt weighs like patronage... The local bulls stare at us again - They are tensed by our casual appearance, And we walk past them without looking back for a moment - We don’t need an empty conflict! My friends drink gin, my friend loves F.P.G. - We always have excellent sex to their music! And recently she left me - a fucking cunt, She was enraged by my new text. And our group is a drunken choir, a whole separate conversation: A real psycho sits behind the drums, A non-stupefying bass player, an inadequate guitarist... And ask them about me! But after the bluing late in the evening, on edge, someone with a hangover, angry, and only pockets full of beer, vodka, sometimes marijuana in the morning, I barely remember who he is - I barely get home OI OI OI We have a mata at our dacha, either mine or Pound’s doors are open for acquaintances and friends, either at my place or at Vano’s, everyone gets drunk - like shit and goes looking for whores, and our group is a drunken choir, a separate conversation altogether, there’s a real crazy person sitting behind the drums, a mind-numbing bassist, an inadequate guitarist, and ask them about me But after the bluing, it’s late in the evening, on edge, someone with a hangover, angry, and only pockets full of beer, vodka, sometimes marijuana, in the morning I barely remember who he is - I barely get home