gebo4613 - ты мне не нужен - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone. The light of my eyes is cold, it has turned into a thorn. I used to see clearly, distinguishing every feature in you, Now an amorphous spot has obscured that clarity. The future and every next step towards the meeting were clear. These invisible threads leading are destroyed by frenzied buckshot. Cold apathy heals, but it’s not clear to me or the others. I rummage around at the bottom of the medicine cabinet, but there’s nothing there except used ear syringes. For too long I believed that goodness comes back like a boomerang, But it only opens the fuck up , the mouth is torn into a Cheshire smile. The integrity of the anal at least is pleasing, but it is not known how much my defense will be enough. If I had known earlier, then from a young age I would have avoided good hugs, Which suck all the strength to the core, shit and other factory strays, Putting defenselessness on display, giving to be torn to pieces by someone. The credo indisputably charges - to be strong and independent. The mind says - “Thank you,” dooming the shell to damned slaughter. I don’t need you, I hated the visible, exclusively, clichéd light. For now, my outlet is ultraviolet and infrared The vale of crying falsetto is shining. You were a gigantic star, eclipsing the universe and authentic matter. The sun, nervously, hand in hand, smoked with you, fucking spinning astronomical euphoria. But now you are a glare buried in a puddle, an intermediate daub. I don’t need you , I don’t need anyone, because no one fucking needs me alone. It was self-evident, but at birth they were too lazy to acquaint me with the user agreement, which reveals an unwritten axiom suddenly - You are born - alone, you die - alone, you are constantly alone, and you also decay .I don’t know if they told others, but this is staunchly laid down without intermediaries in the basis. Why did it remain deprived? The Crommyon pigs memorized the “bright head”. The light of my eyes was sniffled by the sclera, the driven wedges knocked down by the devils, Before, there were always only yours, and I give an unbending guarantee - not in the organs of vision. The world is a slaughterhouse, a shell for slaughter, of all the concepts of extermination it is the least correct. It is time to abandon conservatism and, without taking our eyes off, take the body under partonage. I refuse the erroneous myiasis, abandon the vaguely fixated absurdity into sabotage. The pagans knew and kept the balance between spirit and flesh, in a brotherly way. The rest cut off the tops, ignoring physics themselves, pushing the essence of Purusha Burlatskaya. Say thanks to science, and not to an abstract authoritative figure. Gratitude in the throat, stuck due to instilled prejudice in vain .My body is my temple, my house is a fortress: I have to own it, use it and dispose of it. It was decided long ago - to paint the entire temple, and to share the fortress with my neighbors. I think I will choose - stop giving, accessibility is, unfortunately, dreary boredom. But not taking actions back, remember this demarche, you live as long as you live. It turned out that you only need to prohibit those close or desired. No matter how stuffy it may be, grinding your teeth, force yourself to zip up your pockets. From now on I personify not a gift, but discounts and promotions, only without cash. No one suspected that the one who came down fails less often. For me, a separate life begins, in which getting laid is a greeting. Prayer ceremonies are being carried out, recognitions of freedom as a result of . There is only an animal hunt, sentimentality and exogamy are prohibited. If someone does not agree, justify it in more detail, why the hell not? I am a lonely demon, I don’t need a single one, not even a quarter. The law has been cultivated with an apothem, they don’t banchu using whole crystals in rubbing. You were the flame of my eyes, the chiseled forms of your tongues fought off the blind. Now washed and soaked, your cameo of star sparks is empty .Finally, I achieve the long-awaited Nirvana methodically. Groundhog Day in May - the development of depression is static. To have a loved one, having love, to fuck oneself by force. Through the thug beaten off, trauma and wounds from the inside massaging. The blade rummages around the body, sometimes cuts, forming scratches. The piercing surface pierces not all of them, I was conditionally partially wounded. Providing attention to each hole, as if to a microcosm, As previously agreed, is equivalent to osmosis. Spitting, spanking, bbpe, dominants change, I remain a submit. Accidentally - plié blades, luck - not in me chord for the purpose of selling oneself. The muscles, facial nervous tics, degrees of muscle wear, efficiency and effectiveness, factory strays change. Hey, you can’t compare everything. This allows you to significantly increase and maintain the static nature of depression in the future. And to sum it up, be ready to reason with her dead. I am a free, lonely demon, I got the original trendy whimsical whims. I know who is made of what, but still I choose to continue to live. With you there were the best moments, colossally unsurpassed in my entire biography. The flicker has off scale the quantum , tattooed on the subcortex, smoothly combined, Into one mono track, it is these memories that will help extrapolate to live. I wish Seryozhka a little, Seryozhka will fuck hard-boiled, because he can keep the junkie agility. Earrings do not want me, fearing for their gooch, they have heard a lot about my competence. Everyone in the bastard is reincarnated as a thorn, dragging existence gropingly