Эмбрион Мракобесия - Игра в ящик - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I dream of snow in the middle of July. I dream of the moon in the center of a long day. The murderer creeps up to the prophet's cradle. But there's only the smell of rotten fish in it. All my teeth and fingers are clenched with anger. They screwed me over again, it's funny behind the door. A bloody clot of love mucus. The dying cough of a drunk child. The afterlife fetish of worldly illusions. The hymen of a pocket universe is torn. The child fights to become an adult. The child kills, giving birth to old age. And there's no one to shove his nose into the shit, And no one to caress and console him. The diaper of faith stinks of doubt. Wine made of blood dances in the womb. The nectar of oblivion flows over the fingers. They play rotten games with you. "We play whatever we want. We fell and we fly and we fly." In my pocket is the passport of the Lord God - A knife to the throat, a sickle to the balls. The Eternal Jew in the shop of sorrow. Selling soap made from baby fat. The maggot knows that a corpse is not eternal. You need to have time to swallow as much as possible. So that there is nothing left for the neighbor, So that you burst from an overdose. Dead mice are pleasant to the touch, Dead children are pleasant to the Master. He is pleased when you are gone. So please the Master, baby. The abomination gushed out like a river of debauchery, The rot flared up like a fire of perversions. And everyone was cool, everyone was high Watching how the living becomes decay. This sweaty joy of looking at the sun, The schizo happiness of giving birth to bastards. Fuck you, I'm going to get out of here To where there are no yesterdays and tomorrows... And the grass grew over all this crap, It didn't give a shit, it turned green. The children grew up in their graves. And the cubes fell with their zeros up. The herds multiplied, the herds grew ears. The herds praised the faggots, Kissing their ripe juicy asses, And the cubes fell with their zeros up. Cancer cells dreamed of happiness, Cancer cells wanted to fuck, There were more and more of them, But the cubes fell with their zeros up. And the stars grew up as black holes, And the sun crept toward its native sunset, In the convulsions of life under a century-old rain, Only the cubes fell with their zeros up... And there was so little, so little air in the lungs... Learn to read between the lines, What everyone preferred to keep silent about. What the funny saint forgot, Who passed away yesterday under the fence. The girl Lena did not return home. The girl Rita did not return home. The soldier did not return from the war with himself. No one will return, because there is no home. There is no sky upside down, no earth with a swing, No drunken grief, no love with a hangover. No things in themselves, no you outside of yourself, No tomorrow and not even the day before yesterday. And what hurts is pleasant. And everything that is disgusting is beautiful. What is not tasty is only useful, And only everything that is nasty is holy. Following the principle of "lower to the sky", Fulfilling the covenant of "pretend to be blind", The horned king became your idol, The tailed one took his rightful place. So let there be no spring with snow, And let there be no flowers in the slops, Bloody matrices, eyeless oysters, And chewing gums elevated to a religion. No goosebumps on the skin, no worms on the face. No hamster cages, no stray children, No crusades, no holy freaks, No pine cones, no dead bears. No fingerless hands, no fucking bitches, No sick hearts, no dried up rivers. No sandstorm, no green dope. No boiled crayfish, no blooming poppies, No forbidden dungeons, no heavenly slums, No tired endless transitions from oneself to oneself, From oneself to oneself, From nowhere - fuck! Mocking autumn with a strange smile. With the smile of old Leonardo's whore. Follows you throughout eternity. On the eve of a warm, mortal tomorrow. Perhaps you will become big and fat, Perhaps you will become sick and ugly, Perhaps you will receive Allah's forgiveness In the form of cigarette butts on your grave. The sticky trail on the asphalt will melt. Dreams of blessed oblivion will come true. Live on, fuck and eat. Write letters and lie on. More painful than childbirth, more ferocious than a beast, Your choice has been made. Nothing is sacred. I am a little fuller than empty. I am a little more complex than simple. In spite of everything – let there be Tomorrow. In spite of everything – let there be Noon. In spite of everything, in spite of everything. Let there be Heaven, let there be Joy… I dream of snow in the middle of July. I dream of the moon in the center of a long day. In the center of a long day. In the center of a long happy day.