Текст песни Александр Лаэртский и Волосатое стекло - Грибной дождь

In the morning they bring milk in a cart,
Reflections of the sun in the building glass,
People are running to the bus, pawns,
You hung your legs from the creaking cot.

And you sit and wait for the mushroom rain.

Night is insomnia, day is a drug,
The faces are velvety, red flies,
No one lies in insulin shock,
Somewhere falls in a black flour.

And you sit and wait for the mushroom rain.