dobbro - пора спать ложиться - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I'm kind and good after

I give the murders a knife caught and they too

I run to kill, I want

to be the most alive among the multiplying corpses I had a shirt even such

I love you life with a yacht and the sun with me

There is not a single favorite T -shirt from childhood on

Wipe the floor rags and on the Western Front with me my friend traveling a hitchhiking monk, but he

I chose an unsuccessful look two

eye holes burned with cigarette butts

I will introduce you to the paper pastor. Sometimes you need to undergo detoxification dilute blood

look at reality without

thickeners of liquid smoke of the red sun of fast and slow bourbon vapor and

bubonous plague of non -collapse needles and

Crossing from sedation to stimulation.

Saint Donald consists of a picture on

which depicts a paper cup

Coca-Cola. Twice the saint

Pastor Donald of the Church awaiting. Him

The teeth from the plastic fork which are killed

more than kilograms of people than eaten

you food. He appeared from mine

excessive attachment to pyromania.

I'm trying to burn everything with cigarette butts in

people, burning them with my hands and legs to others

people. You already heard about gasoline on pillars

Fire is great. time stretches the space of the Nivovs of the Troeshchina and Podol

In green pictures and red puzzles, I’m falling into the snow and sitting until the black attack aircraft of the Ukrainian police, put me on the train, I have too many undeniable letters of unnecessary grades of unnecessary memories, a minute of rest shouting in my face Simple guys who are suffering from a dynamo culture Electricity to the masses give light and do!

the motto is no worse than others and this is also a motto

From yesterday, ugly thick women in bibs from tattoos, vile whiskey and a lot of green will not save women's fights, detached, broken chandelier, inflated puzzles are flying in a bit of glasses in absurdity

Get to the station change the ticket there at the station of the conductor calling the kitten with the aim of drowning me in a public toilet

tie a rebus from the traditional model of behavior and your own eyes turned inside out

We were waiting for you with your letters by Donald with fake personalities shit without rhymes drowning in empty bubbles, devastated blisters are very very

Where are you but the snow will notice you

spin and melts and melts