Ранен [Ranen] [English translation]

It's so easy without a burden,

Fly like moth in a straightforward algorithm,

But remember, time has a barcode,

Time is a noiseless killer, hitman.

Shadow of a new day

Only an imprint of an ancient stamp,

And where will you meet me,

I'm also a slave of this damn lamp.

It's funny to die in a hangover.

Motherland, call,

But kill us gently -

We're soldiers of your love.

Drip-drip on the snow

Intricate blots.

How is it? Theres no us,

Just like in the song "About Max".

How are you?

Wandering around in the woods with a rifle.

How are you?

Moved to Thailand, left everything here.

How are you?

Watch, hear the voices.

How are you?

Buried everyone I wrote about.

By the cross on the apostle,

Be smart on your eyes, my poor people.

The inhabitants of the island,

Pray for us - we will not.

Will not wake the dog.

To stay away from this heaven is disgusts us.

Without time it's so easy to fly

In a straightforward algorithm.

You can hear the cry - I injured.

Tell me, old man, how to go to paradise.

How many books there were, but they're all lied.

Can be straight, but only on the edge.

The little prince Antoine,

Mississippi, Louisiana,

Pole, pointe shoes.

Mom, sorry, this jazz is like a liana.

Girl-girl, sing.

Your ray is always with you.

Rosin, soldering iron, solder.

You're like the sea, sand and surf.

He looks at your head

In the porthole,

And you're in the pillow, quietly

My aviator.

The closer to the sky, the harder it's to breathe, baby.

And this is hell in my head - a cell.

And if bent, then I'll survive.

Injured, crippled, shell-shocked.

In my shameless ugliness

To whom I then will be needed.

Forgive me, Hiroshima,

Forgive me, Dresden and Minsk,

But you people are so unbearable,

And your whole life is a whim.

Here it's not enough to gain altitude,

And then it must not be lost.

"I'll be a princess when I grow up,

But if you do, you're a whore.

And while you whine on the couch,

Hide into the catacombs.

Screaming, I press on the trigger

There's a bomb on your roof.

You can hear the cry - I injured.

Tell me, old man, how to go to paradise.

How many books there were, but they're all lied.

Can be straight, but only on the edge.

• Artist:25/17