Lyrics Ка-тет - Синяя Таблетка
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference Ка-тет - Синяя Таблетка, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
Максим Давлад
Мимо ярких витрин магазинов, паутин дорог, некрасивых домов,
Дворов, где глушат конину, я, как НЛО, в ночи пролечу мимо.
Мчится вперёд стальная кислая мина, на дороге гололёд,
Не по сезону резина, но несутся в унисон машины,
Из салона слушают то, что скоро полетит в корзину.
Ценится что здесь? Пенится ёрш.
Тебе плевать на то, что ешь? Плевать на то, что пьёшь?
Для жителей дна я колючий, как ёж.
Архетип - монах. Будь острый, как нож.
Я видел, как и ты, изнутри эти спальные районы.
Я лидер, я не ведомый, что снова ищет способ,
Чтобы в этом забытом муравейнике отойти от комы.
Вертятся тиски, киски, пьются виски,
Бьются бокалы, блюдца, визги,
Пока туса, потом проблюются на вписке.
Синяя таблетка с привкусом ириски.
Все знают Билана, но не знают, кто такой Сергей Магнитский.
Это кричит моя светлая сторона, это наша безумная страна,
По ней побежал шатун-гризли. Шаг не туда, что-то не так - мозг грызли.
К синему небу белый флаг, и ты призрак. Где бы ты ни был, волю в кулак - мысли.
Особенно, если палишь в оба сквозь призму установок эгоизма,
Можно назвать кризиса бизнес (?), это бомба, детали часового механизма.
Всё так: наверху икра, внизу борода, в этих серых городах,
Где у местных уставший взгляд в экран, там неумела игра.
В этих серых городах, где коллекция шрамов и ран,
Множество травм, где стёрта грань.
Неуместная красная таблетка - level up,
Но синяя таблетка у твоего рта.
Синяя таблетка - отведай.
Будешь молчать и держать хвост пистолетом,
Слепо веря в победу,
Выставив слюнявый палец по ветру.
Maxim Davlad
Past bright shop windows, cobwebs, ugly houses,
Yards, where they muffle horse meat, I, like a UFO, in the night will fly past.
A steel sour mine rushes forward, there is ice on the road,
Off-season rubber, but car racing in unison,
From the salon they listen to what will soon fly into the basket.
What is appreciated here? Foam ruff.
You don't care what you eat? Spit on what you drink?
For the inhabitants of the bottom I am prickly, like a hedgehog.
The archetype is a monk. Be sharp like a knife.
I saw, like you, inside these sleeping areas.
I am a leader, I am not led to look for a way again,
To in this forgotten anthill away from the coma.
Twisted vise, pussy, whiskey are drunk,
Beating glasses, saucers, squeals,
While tusa, then whip on the list.
Blue tablet with a taste of toffee.
Everyone knows Bilan, but they do not know who Sergey Magnitsky is.
This is my bright side screaming, this is our crazy country,
The crank-grizzly ran along it. The step is not there, something is wrong - the brain gnawed.
To the blue sky is a white flag, and you are a ghost. Wherever you are, will in a fist - thoughts.
Especially if you burn both ways through the prism of selfish attitudes,
You can call a business crisis (?), This is a bomb, details of a clockwork.
Everything is like this: there is a calf on top, a beard on the bottom, in these gray cities,
Where the locals have a tired look at the screen, the game is inept there.
In these gray cities, where there is a collection of scars and wounds,
Many injuries, where the line is erased.
Inappropriate red pill - level up,
But the blue pill is at your mouth.
Blue pill - taste it.
You will be silent and hold the tail with a gun
Blindly believing in victory,
With a drooling finger in the wind.
Past bright shop windows, cobwebs, ugly houses,
Yards, where they muffle horse meat, I, like a UFO, in the night will fly past.
A steel sour mine rushes forward, there is ice on the road,
Off-season rubber, but car racing in unison,
From the salon they listen to what will soon fly into the basket.
What is appreciated here? Foam ruff.
You don't care what you eat? Spit on what you drink?
For the inhabitants of the bottom I am prickly, like a hedgehog.
The archetype is a monk. Be sharp like a knife.
I saw, like you, inside these sleeping areas.
I am a leader, I am not led to look for a way again,
To in this forgotten anthill away from the coma.
Twisted vise, pussy, whiskey are drunk,
Beating glasses, saucers, squeals,
While tusa, then whip on the list.
Blue tablet with a taste of toffee.
Everyone knows Bilan, but they do not know who Sergey Magnitsky is.
This is my bright side screaming, this is our crazy country,
The crank-grizzly ran along it. The step is not there, something is wrong - the brain gnawed.
To the blue sky is a white flag, and you are a ghost. Wherever you are, will in a fist - thoughts.
Especially if you burn both ways through the prism of selfish attitudes,
You can call a business crisis (?), This is a bomb, details of a clockwork.
Everything is like this: there is a calf on top, a beard on the bottom, in these gray cities,
Where the locals have a tired look at the screen, the game is inept there.
In these gray cities, where there is a collection of scars and wounds,
Many injuries, where the line is erased.
Inappropriate red pill - level up,
But the blue pill is at your mouth.
Blue pill - taste it.
You will be silent and hold the tail with a gun
Blindly believing in victory,
With a drooling finger in the wind.