четыре сезона осени - урбанистический дзен - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I’m going in a suburban minibus, trying to write suitable thoughts in the notebook, my hands are shaking - at 21 I felt for the first time in the place of Parkinson's sick. He shut his ears with a tragedy of my whole life, turned off the highway. Well, no, it’s too much, I’m trying to take off the inspiration of the excess, but it looks like huge Teddy bears rape little girls, leaving notes to the future generation on their vaginal walls, like primitive people fucked a cave painting. It feels that all the songs have already been written, all ideas have been worked out, and the success is only in order to arrange the words as no one has yet arranged. I did not want to write rap - the dad forced me, after the 8th mug in the hoppy outpost. We hate everyone, but it seems we need to love. We want sobriety, but we cannot survive, if you do not smoke and do not drink. Do you think you have no place here? Forward to the past! The most ardent moralists are always hypocritical projections of the best representatives of our species. Kill me for my foul language, nits. I have not read, but it seems for all my nonsense you can get a non -hut, if on the Qur'an. Our pride and a sense of own importance, like Achil’s heel, kill us if we hurt well. I walk around the house in shoe covers, and barefoot to the street. I love Alenkin’s ass, and fried chicken. Christopher Nolan and Emir Kusturitsa. Outside the window, the weather, but these guys have a fuck, the tile should be laid. Like Anka in my bed before graduation. Like the guys from the world of Vorovsky, to the graves. Like Shamil from ISIS. Like the monster fucking from the film "Godzilla." Kali-yuga will dissect this universe faster than you google what it is. The generation grown on American films of the 80-90s was the last sane. I’ll die - I’ll tell this world a goodbye. There is 10 minutes left with Vikuly, I say to myself, do not worry, do not look for antimatter, I again hugged in the cabbage soup. Vikulya cooks solid borscht, it will be necessary to give her the opportunity to try to cook met. I have no problems with my head, you just don’t understand, you did not caress the heifer in free fall in 69 positions, you do not rummage in conscious dreams. I have a fuck on your traditions, on the fact that there are more people with gloomy faces. Like persons from mountainous areas, it's time to open your underground crematorium. Are you the same with the gaze of the wolf? Get up as it is more convenient for you, we will have fun, we have nothing else left, we all passed. Forgive the ancestors, just once something went wrong. They did not notice how they themselves turned themselves under the cap. Next time come with a friend, we will pause, eat twix, then try the bounty pose, they say heavenly pleasure. In the morning I took a picture on Instagram of my bowel movements, how fashionable I am, bitch. More fashionable than the most fashionable Vietnamese Hook, and Huck, and Chuk. Do not know who you are - hellish flour, I do not advise you to try. Realize more often, devastate the bowl, urban Zen - all you need now. Go to eat, my mother was cooking dinner.