Текст песни Чистый тип - Новый мир

about sad poems have long been granted
We can sleep in them.
These prose with the smell istinkta false
"Move the can it?"
Is it important that we are united only on paper
in these verses, not to hear my mother
I have seen your tears because of your eblana
I want him to fill ebalo
trying to climb into the soul, it is a road to nowhere
when the look in the eye that sees it
Leave the gateways, and never come out
always busy, a small fry
A new world, yes, but where is the end of the old
I lost pieces of small but not you
I write again in vain
But we're together, remember my words?

I invent one life for another.
Fuck the creek, went up to the house
come together write a new book
Update the garbage that is called the world

I shared the fate of the loser.
packs, I get dirty sheet
vnikuda prose, the road to heaven
We have one land on different poles
and how to get there
where birds sing, where clean water
where I was not a drug addict, although right now, not Narco
Section Sky TV say the storm
Pattison, your fetish and idol
posters from the film, so beautiful
girl dreaming dreams of vampire
and I of him, only for his beloved
Light the wick
counts down the moments when I was a pure type
it is somewhere inside where you are.
The new update, this fucking world.