эхопрокуренныхсараев - музей будущего - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

The loop breaks off and you fall into hell. No matter how glad you are outwardly, only a whisper in your head dictates to you to die, the mother is dear, death, you love her. There is one minus in life, this is life itself. Gloom and longing, a grave board closes. Only demons from other dimensions will open the portal to hell, where forever, you will be embraced by fire. The beast breaks from your chest, huge. Pain. heart. Hands strangle each other with harnesses. High -voltage wires squeezed with boats, the stadium of hell was pressed into the eyeballs, black trees dug into the ground.

Two times, death is close.

Two three times, cut your life.

Two three times four, blood drops cooled down.

Two three four -four times, it's time to die.

Your neck raped the loop. Death is close, life adds you to black lists. No dying notes were found, access to them is closed. The museum of the future is open, you are opened. Yaga is finished, your life is merged. washed away. The sky drops the dead cosmonauts, a somnambulic state. It is better to root for AIDS than for Spartac. You reach for a cancer stick sitting on Cortaah. On a sobriety lane, a drunk drove knocked out a hokhla. Satanic genera in Jewish, from the vagina immediately to the stove, the best beginning, Karma was drunk, the soul is like the second Vietnamese. On the Satanic dick, another whore was planted, which did not go to heaven. A grinning edge fell into the stomach, die, please die.

Two times, death is close.

Two three times, cut your life.

Two three times four, blood drops cooled down.

Two three four -four times, it's time to die.