Lyrics макулатура - газданов

jumping through the turnstiles feel like getting old
it's harder for me to live a hundred rubles a week
time goes by
beautiful woman and something like a hero

Other categories I do not read magazines
I do not go to the cinema I hide my hands in a restaurant
your name is like a train to another reality
nothing i'm a beggar and have you been a vegetarian for a long time?

stop me on * bali reproducer broadcasts
obsession will shatter while I'm going for things
science and life proved it for sure
give a hundred of a hundred you will jump off soon

Alone, I kept my style straight
I will spend all my strength on one message
you took my hand and it became clearer
in contrast, one knows better who was born a plebeian

make life a dream of you like gazdans
cuddle up and wait for us to come
if in your eyes there was doubt
it means my time is running out

I'll write the last kiss in the tags "i x * d"
I will declare these songs to fall asleep
forbade himself a lie but left self-deception
you are not sure of me. They serve us juice in glasses.

the window of the restaurant shamelessly intrudes life
machines continue to function
what does the air smell like? if there is no further love
humanity must perish must perish

we all smoothly die in our routine affairs
spiders get tangled in their own web
my sad hymns will sound in the dead streets
humanity must die if i am alone

for some reason I tuck my trousers in stupid fashion
but longer than a second can not stand in front of the mirror
I dream to be an elephant man with a package on his head
deliver your heart instead of food to you

i'm sure i'm alive the rest i don't know
Immanuel Kant advises to eat g * vno in such cases
why go out of the house why spend and buy
worst of all at this time to see your own face

if a man with a camera would follow me
I would somehow get used to myself and maybe even
I would live to the fullest like a hero *
such as suckers or barvikha or something more disgusting

would be more daring to attack everyone like harmony
Kourine director of the film Mr. Loneliness stuck out
would be on some oh * itnoy dope without pale
engaged in self-sucklean write me in the closet

suffering does not exist because all suffer
under the laughter at the concert Mikhail Zadornov
I offer my sad heart in a Pyaterochka package
you are not here maxim bitter it is made of poralon

I do not know what is worse to be with me or go to the club
maybe you will find some artist there
I cheaply break into his house I will be drunk kill
you two of one shot and the life of the type will acquire meaning

instead of love, I decide where to go and what to buy
close in the closet try to give up life
what's on tv? if the series again barvikha
humanity must perish must perish

we will all die smoothly in our routine affairs
spiders get tangled in their own web
sad hymns will sound in the dead streets
humanity must perish and I along with it