Гноев Ковчег - Знаменитый Балаган - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Palach 1. For half the price, joy is forever, on glasses of the degree stronger, we are in the booth, buy, gentlemen and ladies, a crunch of tickets to the path of Milky. Feeling, take the load on the shoulders, sadness does not heal, the taste of sheep's skins is vile, the coward is easier, the artificial world is reckless, the course is planned. Yes, the buyer, the joy is not a way out, but only a visitor in the ward, where you left alone to die in shackles during a salary. There is not enough booth to fools. The reality of the veil-Morgan, let's take a photo as long as you were selling joy, you did not understand that everything that you earned for years was spent in a day. Even the heavens do not save from abrasions, the romantics are tired, crazy, washed down. They’ll stretch your happy ticket, but it does not mean the passed exam. Sell yourself, buy joy and buzz, on the booth life and proposals in bulk, whether you are important as a king or a hermit with a reserve, on sale every day there are a lot of decisions for nothing.

Dima Teddy 2. Life in his mouth knit that jelly and a room crypt of carousels from the walls. Is it worth it to get up, there is another day, playing the asphalt for dead children. The area will shift the eyes of the loophole, spit out crumpled people in the hospital, there, along with others, I wrote on the wall "I want to die, yes, I want to die!". But there is a simpler exit, at noon it goes to the foil of the focus, felts of clown in rags, takes out what you want, and the bags pulls like yarn, and sells by rubles, and the path is hard, but wants to save every amount of the right amount. Chorus: And there is no emotion to the soul for free, on credit a minute of the nightingale song, love is sold out in price list, I take your heart to pawnshops. At the fair, someone’s memory is once in bright colors, the soul in a coined black and white dress to go to the asphalt and falls asleep ... Hawiyan 3. The money will not fall at the feet, I still have in this life in this life I didn’t buy anything, but I already sold everything. There is a little shame, maybe a drop of conscience, but from pride, as for pride, there was not even a trace. Around me are the bosses, directors, business centers, and I want to get the bottom and for us to knock out a place. I am ready to substitute, to break the bones, constantly endure, but the question is, why do I have such a thing to you?

. STED.D 4. The brain does not allow me to forget these dreams, there are so many of them already, wants me to put them in piles, built a cocoon from papier-mash. I would drive the wheels and drive away, choke on an avalanche of laughter, I sold my soul to hearts, endlessly ready for the last track. But the soul is restless, the destiny of the idle talk is butt, who will be the first to leave for a cattle -beam, where the rings of thunder and dancing of lightning, try to part with the will, but again I am the suffering in the crucifixes of anger, in search of secret rooms, where the huckster will throw me a stone from the cart. But I drag this burden, my shoulders are tired, but faith with us. Why create your life from scratch is easier to dick CEBE. Winds of endless doubts, I can’t buy myself for money, and I am again suffering from a forever gaping crown. Chorus: And there is no emotion to the soul for free, on credit a minute of the nightingale song, love is sold out in price list, I take your heart to pawnshops. At the fair, someone’s memory is once in the bright colors, the soul in a black and white dress, fading on the asphalt and falls asleep ...