Текст песни Касаткин А. - День автомобилиста

DRIVER'S DAY

There is a beautiful car,
the car goes on the road
the road leads nowhere
the palace is nowhere
there is a secret room in the palace,
nobody is sitting in the secret room
no one is looking at the screen (To Manitou?),
a beautiful car rides across the screen
                                               ____________________________

The car is focusing Ford Focus
I'm proud of that car
I'm driving proud

My hands on the steering wheel
Dexterously steer right
Right left

From the window I seem to fakie
Suckers, losers, and all
Losers

                 Car rushing along the road
                 The edges of the house are wretched
                 Orphaned.

And the road here is one
From asphalt and shit
Yes sandbox

                  And there’s simply no other
                  If you want to rush on
                  Rush around the world.
 
So you drive her
How do you get tired brakes
Get up and rest.

Left hemp with mushrooms
Tobacco swill to the right
Free - choose.

                   If free - ask
                   Hey road where is your land
                   What is over the edge?

Where are you going
Into the abyss, no? Well, thank God
Glory be to god

Where are you doing then
Answers - to Nowhere
I’m leading to Nowhere.

                     You drive everything straight
                     Through cracks and pits
                     You won’t go by (you have to go somewhere)

Here are the cast-iron gates
And nowhere behind them
Nowhere and never

In Nowhere, the palace stands
Brighter than the sun
Gold silver.

In the palace garage
On a slurred floor
There is a room

There is a room, and in it
There are no windows or doors
But there is a screen

A Ford is racing across the screen
You are proud in this Ford
You ride proud

                   Your hands on the steering wheel
                   Dexterously steer right
                   Right left

From the window you seem fakie
Suckers, losers, and all
To the losers.

It’s a pity that you will not understand soon
Who is sitting at the monitor
Either you or I.
Either Roma, then Ilya

Either Den, or Petya
Sanya, Panya, or (dyapan) Fedya
Either Ira, or Nyura
Either Senya, or Yura

Either Dima, then Andrei
either Antosh or Gavryusha
Either Glory, or Klava
Is Lena Vyacheslavna

Either Vital, or Senya
Either Fields, or Zhenya
Whether a crooked buoy
Whether a high pound

Yes. This is called a wheel script. Not the creak of the wheel, as many have heard here. And not a violin of the forest, as many did not hear here. Namely the wheel script. So it seems to us sitting at the monitor that the author, such an infection, forgot to compose another verse, such as, kagbe, uh ...

Orderlies and nightmares
Dropped off if the wheel of Samsara
Take and fall to break.