thamew - the cure - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

The streets lack of tear gas, suffocating like pneumonia by itself

or a feeling of love, fruit in the placenta, bullets in the head, something

what makes us feel both filled with and devastated at once

The streets lack you, deadness and liveliness, abundance in the writings and fertility

In a person, castration and the question of NUPs in a natural increase in a member

reduced in itself to three letters torn to the surface of the leafy labia on the surface

as a product or something required to be required

I ended up in the mile of the world as a tree at the bottom of the sea for something spent

Or the so -called in itself. The streets do not have enough death, they are life -based

They are life -adopted but in the concept of life as life ripped off,

are a question as openness of space, but not as the availability of space

and the availability of death or death indirectly for the streets in the person of the masses remains an open issue

I welcome myself and my ego morning jerk in the mirror

Morning News of Morning Newspaper Morning Tea and Morning Morns of Alkazeltzer

My life from getting dressed and undressing is a set of repeating and leaving actions in themselves as a cyclical eternal staircase

The streets lack the smell of rotten clutors and a damp on fences

Payers of the payers of people of cacti of people of Taurusov Phenomenon of social boards without worries

and needs - the length of the hum in their ears of the mixed hum of prayers to

We will never hear this hum of firing again and avoid fighting with ourselves

Never breathe talk about it barely breathing, already in a hurry, take your hand

And hold your hand and never let go of the fuck to sit with a bottle of the old miller

Right in the center or in the middle of the war of the world, sit there next to you

Determine for yourself the north and south to outline your circle as a crock of a sprinkled corpse

to set borders and fagots around him will never enter it

and poking in the nose, something to say, but we will not hear

we will sit and wait for the streets from here they will leave to tear themselves out not even to break out

From the environment of the masses and they are forcibly shaken away, with regards to us -

We will never understand us here two of our center of the world in the center of the war

your little fucking circle here is only you friend and I am a friend to you

We have no worries, there is no booty shmali and we are nobody for you and you are for us and you are for us

are a kind of mixture of pieces of shit and disfigured gap

It is better to barricade in your own paradise as under a plaid on a landfill in winter

In minus thirty, look for warm comfort, we will look for our place for the best songs of The Cure group and further on his mind without thinking about who else to carry huynya