Заповедник средней полосы - Челнок - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

In general: one question has been tormenting me for quite some time.

Where do you start and how dark should it be?

Maybe you’re a freak and just have nothing to do but rant about the eternal.

To put it culturally, you are a careless actor who imagines that his nature is full of ideas

And they are all something.

I'm not here for praise and careless nods, without you I have enough tar and holey horseshoes

I dream of gardens and the smell of flowers

You're just a banal idiot

Your originality is based on the fact that you used to leaf through a dictionary

The pharmacy light beckons you at three in the morning and I’m just making faces here

Propaganda of the plague and signs of corruption, Thomas’s ontology is diluted with juicy forms, your friend is writhing, clutching her kidneys, nervously breathing down her neck under the impression, and you go to visit.

She's got bruises on her knees and daddy's a slug

He has a gun on the mezzanine and it looks like cancer.

It’s worth taking a pause, but it’s not like that

Continuing this opus, I unlock the attic:

And now I see the essence under the guise of a master of psychologism

Freeze and look back, how beautiful this view is, everything is clear here for a moment, now wake up, how? Brew some more from yesterday?

No, thank you, it was very tasty, but the doctor says to at least take care of what I call art.

I'm sad and everything is so dim

Go whine to the prostitute from Kursk,

Look into her eyes, they are empty.

And surrounded by such clients, you will be an eternal shuttle between remorse and carefree weak memory when you become an old man.