Старательно Рефлексирую - ГУЛАГ - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

In -Apol, tram employees were striking

A chain of empty wagons stretched over the entire length

I take your fingers and wrap them with loops of diverse words

I fly like a crane with wings in oil.

British Petroleum make dreams. I remember in line to a neurologist

All the beauty of your and my sick head

The angular and printed letters are pouring this diarrhea to me in the eye. Turning the life cycle to rush into adventurism for an autistic - trouble

Stereotyping - my closest plan to old age and grave boards

I can’t observe longing, the internal pressure squeezed my whiskey

a pear on a stick and swing to get to the driver into the frontal

This is my little performance about how I can’t, but I am fighting something

falling from blows to mats. sobs and snot, but will in a fist

See the prickly wire of the house? I am building a gulag here

Will you be a burst of a machine gun or a single bang of a rifle?

You can still be the same shovel that buries me

So embarrassed, embarrassed by the fraction of the drum, the brushes of your hands will roll up

I hung them with hinges of capital sweeping letters

you repeat the syllable in the syllable with your lips to try to figure it out a little bit

Where in this printed campaign I managed to get lost with my head

Come on, search each hollow

Put with a helicopter over each field

I built a barn

and wrote above the front door "Club on the search for the sea"