hatelife. - Петли - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

We throw the cups in the trash,

To find a bed more easily

Souls in the bowls, broken into fragments, we'd like a fatter layer,

Deeper the pit, deeper the coffin, mushrooms in the soul, a bucket in the womb, think your way through life, you idiot

Playing a string along the nerves and crucifixes with darkness,

But the dead don't give a damn here, even with a dried-up soul,

An answer knocks with a grin from the bottom

Pour at least half a bucket in there

A hole in my head with my actions

Then close the coffin behind me

Bury me in the temple, I beg you, and the city with fierce steel.

I'll fuck you a little, accompanied by a smoky melody, for a thrill.

Intellectuals guzzle salts as if it were all legal.

Just one text is driving me crazy. If only we could fix the delivery, we're pushing the system over the edge with its fucking falsehood.

Where is this time running, shooting so hastily, and if I'm rotting here, then for you, this is all just a picture.

The cornice should have been cleared of carrier pigeons, where did the cauldron in the hell of gullible people go, and why aren't there any ingrown branches these days?

In your distrustful eyes, you can see the fear that lingers on your lips from mirror to looking glass.

Your snowdrop soon grew into the earth and smelled of where your loved ones remained standing.