4SGM - 365 - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

this is not snot on TV this is not storytelling

this applies to everyone but deeper than the well and longer than the shadow

showers poured and shoaled snowstorms days flew by

we were together but were not united

and during the day slide we sit in Ol Zeka’s studio

my soft loved lyric I

but I never thought of dedicating something to you like Ice Ice Baby

on the day when Medvedev made excuses for Domodedovo

we didn't talk on the phone where am I and where are you

we are far away even when there are millimeters between our bodies

bro so prosaic, are we? we are not looking for love

Yes, and I didn’t give it to the Dalai Lama, and that’s okay

afraid to be alone

I went through all the layouts and knew it wouldn’t start my heart

this afterburner on the parishes

not cardiologists not love spells

started with half a kick, it started with half a turn

take a liter of draft with you

and dispersed the puer in a stretched sweater, nightmares against the walls covered in writing in the compartment

supposedly from the heart to the sun

and I'm so fucking here I'm looking for something like Sherlock Holmes

hanging at your door in the cold entrance

Olya this is not love Olya these are arrivals

there is no transport for three nights

I don’t feel like pressing the bell, so I’ll let you change something, guess you or me

hanging at your door in the cold entrance

Olya this is not love Olya this is coming three nights transport is not running

I don’t feel like pressing the bell, so I’ll let you change something, guess you or me

Don Juan doesn't fuck on the stairs, he smears now he wanted to dial, but it's a pity the pipe got hooked

fire, how awkward everything is, the craving is dying

Erich Frem is boring, love is the devil

For me, the penitentiary for reason has passed and that’s it

and must last 910 hours minimum

without a name essays of the past who we were we beat but it hurt my pupils were constricted

these parishes are approaching like indifference are included in the Guinness book, our crazy parties are in search

in Google patience in Sotik dry heather we are silent about where it rains behind this door

there my pens are being hammered in the crowd

you were created not by music in a land not of rainbows but of garbage

when we hug there should be a pause

I should be willing to die twice on Mars for you

hanging at your door in the cold entrance

Olya this is not love Olya these are arrivals

there is no transport for three nights

I don’t feel like pressing the bell, so I’ll let you change something, guess you or me

hanging at your door in the cold entrance Olya this is not love Olya this is coming for three nights the transport does not run

I don’t feel like pressing the bell, so I’ll let you change something, guess you or me