бесполезный - ураган - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I sit on the porch of my old wooden house in Kansas and hear how the speaker on the radio transmits an urgent meteorological summary: in the direction of my little town a hurricane is moving unprecedented sizes. With an indifferent voice, she leads statistics: for a short two weeks of the life of the hurricane, he has already managed to harm the dozens of states, hundreds of cities with the land, to bury not one thousand people. I squeeze the next cigarette and continue to listen. The announcer brings to the attention of the residents of Kansas to keep the fact that Cassiopeia (just such an unusual name, scientists gave the destruction of human destinies) after a few hours it will cover our miserable town. Experts advise citizens to leave their homes and run away, maybe then they will be able to escape. I turn off the radio, I go to the house and go to the chuladney for the bottle of my favorite whiskey, because it was he who throughout my life helped me solve problems with women. I knew that this moment would be early or late, I simply had it to die at such circumstances, even despite the stories of my mother about the magic country of Oz, in which she fell. Why am I so confident in my death? Yes, because from the time of death, Mrs. Dori has changed: America does not need America and every resident of the United States understands it perfectly well, so I take a bottle, I have another strong and return to the porch, turn on the radio. Sudden message: Cassiopeia is already approaching our town, so everyone who did not have time to leave the city remains only to pray. I get a small cross from my pocket, looking at him closely, and then with all my power we throw it in the field. To hell, it's all! What is the meaning of God, if he cannot save our sinful souls?! In the distance, I see how huge clouds will fall on the land of lightning, the thunder is increasing everything, and the wind is already starting to bend the trees. I again set up the radio, but instead of the horror of the calm voice of the speaker, I hear only a uniform hiss. Great, it will be our song with you, KES. I finish whiskey and an empty bottle goes into a thick grass after a presented mother's cross. Suddenly, her silhouette appears on the horizon, I have never seen the woman more beautiful: as if a huge tunnel, connecting our godless land with heaven. I understand that the end is close, I bite into my jacket, it is somewhat more comfortable, I will squeeze a cigarette in my life, I make noise transmitted on the radio louder and waiting for your death. KES is coming.