Lyrics Сэт - Формула
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference Сэт - Формула, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
Не предавать ради формы смысл,
А придать мыслям форму.
Я не поддаюсь гипнозу чисел, запомни!
Нет единой формулы, нет нормы!
Но есть риск не дорыть до прииска истин.
Когда твоя лопата пахнет виски.
Когда ты близкий, только пока
Не видно дна твоей миски,
И подать вовремя подана.
Толпа довольна, и полно.
Ведь полые слова бьют в никуда,
И совсем не больно,
Зачем искать ответы на вопросы.
Если так просто воспользоваться спросом.
Который мечет китч в массы горстью,
И уже каждый бич себя кличет боссом...
Я господ, мол, а вы — мелюзга!
Конечная остановка мозга.
Не предавать ради формы смысл,
А придать мыслям форму.
Я не поддаюсь гипнозу чисел, запомни!
Нет единой формулы, нет нормы!
Если нет слов, от которых торкает.
Нет и толка от диска на полке.
Это тонко, но не рвется, даже
Когда очень громко — вот что важно.
Вот что нужно! Это оружие против
Гниения духа, отравления плоти,
И мое творчество, рожденное в муках.
Не позабудет свое отчество
В погоне за качеством звука!
Когда в моих руках рупор,
И каждое слово—будто под лупой,
Глупо тратить драгоценное время вселенной
На что-то не вечное, тленное...
Не предавать ради формы смысл,
А придать мыслям форму.
Я не поддаюсь гипнозу чисел, запомни!
Нет единой формулы, нет нормы!
Do not betray for the sake of form meaning,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
But there is a risk not to dig to the truths.
When your shovel smells like whiskey.
When you're close, just bye
You can not see the bottom of your bowl,
And submit it on time.
The crowd is happy, and full.
After all, hollow words hit nowhere,
And it does not hurt at all,
Why look for answers to questions.
If so it is easy to take advantage of demand.
Which kitsch kitsch in the mass of a handful,
And already every scourge himself calls the boss ...
I am gentlemen, they say, but you are a fry!
The final stop of the brain.
Do not betray for the sake of form meaning,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
If there are no words from which to stick.
There is no sense of the disk on the shelf.
It's subtle, but it's not torn, even
When it's very loud, that's what's important.
That's what you need! This weapon is against
Decay of the spirit, poisoning of the flesh,
And my work, born in pain.
Will not forget his patronymic
In pursuit of sound quality!
When in my hands a shout,
And every word, as if under a magnifying glass,
It's foolish to waste the precious time of the universe
For something not eternal, perishable ...
Do not betray for the sake of form meaning,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
But there is a risk not to dig to the truths.
When your shovel smells like whiskey.
When you're close, just bye
You can not see the bottom of your bowl,
And submit it on time.
The crowd is happy, and full.
After all, hollow words hit nowhere,
And it does not hurt at all,
Why look for answers to questions.
If so it is easy to take advantage of demand.
Which kitsch kitsch in the mass of a handful,
And already every scourge himself calls the boss ...
I am gentlemen, they say, but you are a fry!
The final stop of the brain.
Do not betray for the sake of form meaning,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!
If there are no words from which to stick.
There is no sense of the disk on the shelf.
It's subtle, but it's not torn, even
When it's very loud, that's what's important.
That's what you need! This weapon is against
Decay of the spirit, poisoning of the flesh,
And my work, born in pain.
Will not forget his patronymic
In pursuit of sound quality!
When in my hands a shout,
And every word, as if under a magnifying glass,
It's foolish to waste the precious time of the universe
For something not eternal, perishable ...
Do not betray for the sake of form meaning,
And give thoughts a form.
I do not succumb to hypnosis of numbers, remember!
There is no single formula, there is no norm!