Текст песни чужой паттерн lodoss

Обновлено: 19.09.2024

Что тобой создано?
Ничего достойного,
Никогда не поздно:
Бросай всё и пёс с ним.
Никогда не поздно,
Брось это…

Что тобой создано?
Ничего достойного,
Никогда не поздно:
Бросай всё и пёс с ним.
Никогда не поздно,
Брось это…

It’s not like all of you,
Grew, as if all three in a year.
Apart from the stream that sharpened
Nose on glass shop windows.
Caused migraines and flatulence,
Their cult of acquisition, materialism.
And you tried everything
Though digging but
To your own special world
I wish .
Everyday life is like everyone else, lesson after lesson, but the teacher is bored - he has not delved into it.
Either the student was not quick for them, or too lazy.
Beyond the threshold of scientific experiments,
Better than the lines of forcibly coined books.
At best in them
Signpost
How to head down.
How to head down there
Where is your fiction - nonsense
Where soaring in the clouds
Lowers the bald spot back
Bills and a glass,
Where reflections are beyond the standard,
And depression is nothing.
Where all the work is fresh feces
Your message is fiction.
Yellow price tag
Consumer goods, trash.
Only the excitement ran down you
But talent is not found in poetry.
And we know the answer for sure,
But

What have you created?
Nothing worthy
It's never too late:
Throw everything and the dog with him.
It's never too late,
Drop it .

Ah, you are the creator!
Any figure in your hand
Will become a sculpture, for example,
The eighth miracle didn’t.
So why on earth
Do you care so much about someone else's pattern?
They are stupid mannequins.
Think it over
You are the creator!

In the head on the shelves
Every gyrus
Clearly packaged
In alphabetical search.
It doesn’t form here,
Sweet madness
Chaos doesn't suit those
Who is scared.
I'm sorry, what?
Dissent?
No no!
All
What i found out
To me,
You have to be on the same
Long wave.
To speak any fiction -
Harm.
On the subcortex in the brain.
Is not it?
This whole mess in my head
Script of another specifically
Bad performance.
Yes,
So you raised the "decay"
Handmade bungled
Crate
Trash settles in it,
Like a fear
Like mold
On a wet wall
Bluff spreads
That ideas are not light
And vice and sin.
You're useless like everyone else
Don't go on
Pound capital
Spend the anniversary.
And in a cozy circle, it’s amazing
Ungrateful children
In old age
Give it to yourself
45th caliber
And a couple of holes
Add to portrait.
Let the beautiful veriber
On a marble stump
Emphasize
What are you all the same
Invented
How to reflect
On the surface
Clays of the times
Not visible
Track.
Or,
Let it stagger and weak
Your truth knows:
The crowd is wrong, not right.
Rising once again
Creating a new portal
Into a fantasy world where decadence
This rule is a postulate.
Exactly there
Let the head explode
And a blazing pit
Pouring everything into words
Let them merge in unison
Screams of owls and bells
Where are you your own lawyer
And celestial and aesculapius.

What have you created?
Nothing worthy
It's never too late:
Throw everything and the dog with him.
It's never too late,
Drop it .

Ah, you are the creator!
Any figure in your hand
Will become a sculpture, for example,
The eighth miracle didn’t.
So why on earth
Do you care so much about someone else's pattern?
They are stupid mannequins.
Think it over
You are the creator!

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