Интервенция - Линия реальности - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

don't give a damn about lust, dandruff in advertising and the gunpowder of our efforts,

there are many aspirations, debates, bows, trampled groans, and obstacles.

God, where is what moved us? Who are we? Nonentities!

For the sake of a beautiful life, not many people even pay.

We don’t see beyond the nose; there are few true innovators.

With quick shots at morality, honor and truth have expired and dried up.

The axis is shifted. We spend everything that is not made by us.

By the way, I don’t need any more animal concepts, laws, dens, their mother.

Morality is killed by fashion, the forbidden fruit is sweet. Only a herd, but large for Adam's garden. Here the devil wears a prado.

Love has been confused - prodigal sin, where is the bottom and where is the top? coordinate workshop, carnal pleasure fun with salary.

Everyone accepted the system. reality line is the minimum line.

Chorus:

reality line is the minimum line. Horizons are lost. The boundaries of what is permitted have been erased. Psycho geniuses. Black White. I confess that I could have done more. We are all responsible for what we have done.

I'm tired of coughing. What happens next is either better or worse. You need a beat and bass, the rest is trampled into a puddle. My head is spinning, good, I already have a cold. In the horror of reality, I find myself with a loaded weapon. Face covered in soot. He has gained another fathom in height. Who can say whether I will be saved or drown in whims. Will I gain experience, or will I continue to do things wrong - a priori. Only I won’t miss the enemy’s face. How many corrupt people push smart ideas, seeing how time sows a new seed. Money feeds [?]. They took the money and feed the clients

Love is being exchanged for pennies, pennies and cents. Like a film strip of a silent non-color film interferes with the tones of dust to grow wings. Jobs under the sun are filled. Laziness killed knowledge. We burn more than ever, leaving ashes

Chorus.

I saw someone write true notes. For many years the Goths muddied the dark waters and fooled our heads like opium with utopia. Our voices were drowned in the abyss of existence. Looking at the truth, they saw only lies. The price of happiness is a penny. There is a grimace on the face and everyone looks like his Western brother. The lyrics are as clear as a four-carat emerald. The pawns are checkmated. The soldiers trampled the mud, leaving red dates on the calendars. Bloody debates, the choice of a new father, now the whole herd is controlled only by democrats. Comparison with the States. Politics in a new format. The split between the poor and the rich came at an inopportune time. I would send all my hopes to hell, but I can’t return everything to be the same.

Chorus.