Lyrics Рем Дигга - На Юг

My fire is not extinguished, he is inside. With him I go into darkness, full of them. There is forward, where menacing look. The sky stretch thin, sick crowns of willows. My journey is far, in that steppe evil and gloomy way. My rap - gift wrapped and his best darkness. He sat himself forward fist above his head. We all sign. I'm not the will, unhappy son of a bitch. On the battlefield, missing hooks in the soup. Pretty sick, who was scared of you ??? But I MDP as an ox, and they rod, like fairies. According to the fields in boots, past the NIF and minutes. We have - they are shooting is one. CIF descended into the hole, the world flies. I picked up the sword and shield, I want to live and be. He goes into the darkness of the caravan, there are black-black willow, horror, darkness. There's the river of the dead fish, dead birds, dead nat. But I'll be back - know, Couple contention, like ivy, like an octopus. If you will turn, I do not understand. Native do not worry, do not call, do not forget. Yeah, there's far dissolve in smoke. Exit the caravan to the south, out into the darkness, each took his dream, she warmed to it in hell. But my pain - forgotten dream, runaway cartridge into the chamber. Those who encroached on my house, will be buried in it. Exit the caravan to the south, where the tree cases given, as a gift. Where the demons in the war fighting everything. Red-hot barrels in the tank. Vit and beat - this is my instinct that if the world as a ring if it is in the blood. Behind my house, there's my angel asleep, his mouth open to them bitch? No problem, catch! Exit the caravan to the south early in the morning. In the hands hold love silent. I just can not breathe. I touch the strands stinging hand. Just stroking her best. But the demons have seen here in the river. Again, the men collected. Exit the caravan to the south, filled to not be unloaded. Lead tears the grass on the pulse. Tears very different tastes. I'm going on a journey, like everyone else. With him I have five minutes, sitting down. And I hold hands, waiting for the dawn. Fragments of the past come to me. On the green meadows in the grass. I kissed his knees, burned. Free like the wind with these steppes. Oh, if I knew about the war bitch. With puffed home field. You scream, see cornfields burn. But I swear to you. Who stepped sword native here. He did it for nothing. Exit the caravan to the south, far horizon is filled with blood. The smell of sweat, there is gunpowder, liquor, smell of burned cannabis. Dirty feet walk into my house. Unceremoniously vile scumbag. Time to show fangs. Who is the Popes-queen who don. Laid polusfers, blew everyone. Small success. But we unnecessary burden dves-minute. Next, the path into the woods. Demons out there, beyond the river. The views of catches under the visor. The caravan came to life? Native land of nod. Who am I without these fields? Well, who am I without these fields, tell me. Moans, those in the fire and I just burn them. Someone without this hair? Who I am without these hands, I loved ??? During their lives, ready to die. My homeland, my dear, good land. My Homeland, one you have me. Homeland, be patient! Native land. My Homeland, one you have me ...