Текст песни MC Val - Они Будут Крутиться В Гробах

Every night I wake up seeing the faces of the dead
Children without hands, maniacs in shabby trousers
These empty eyes and scream at the end of the corridor
Echoes or scratches nails under the floor
Come out like icons, funny faces on the walls
Trollface from baby blood mixed with sperm
The house in Winchester I see in this room
Cut corpse of a child in packages wrapped
Sweet smell from the basement of fresh carrion
Tattered women, quartered men
Broken heads, brains mixed with blood
The burning smell of flesh that was recently burned
Take a look around, maybe one of them goes behind
Potentially you're dead in advance by the way
They always come in reality and in my dreams,
But while I write, they will spin in coffins