dobbro - слишком громкий мертвец - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

True set to sorrow. Too loud dead always wake up counting your own doses and then do not lie calmly and dish in cramps or correspond with schoolgirls. Fate passing by their windows is tiredly sighs

Give me by my shoulders in the subway if you don't want to beat the bones breaking the nasal cartilage and your fingers about the empty shell of a soulless passenger endowed with a face, on which they opened the most nasty secrets about themselves meaningless, I was netbook-I clung to my ears and stupid Bulking pain just below the heart as a child, I wanted to become anything and soon the Great Militseer Gatsby would come true to the model shoes at the ribs and once again asked about the senses and beginnings through the pain of strikes

The feeling of unrealism hits the sprinkling wave when something bad was remindingly in the scraps of the testimony of non-existent witnesses after 2 minutes they will share it with water and hit the electric shock and then I will die but so far a sparkling ribbon sweats a series of identical pile of dead insides sits in front of a non-luminous square. Wighs of unnecessary letters the hair of the dead man and they move the feeling of the slammed cover

Dozens of smells add up to the sense of spring and the wind gossip the hair into the words that you lived before February 28, but all the quotas of good luck are limited and not dozens of new conversations and beautiful persons waiting for you, but the endless viewing of the Plinth ROVD that the last time was reflected in your pupils.