Leanje - Обсудим за столом - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Eh, I often have to talk about how I try to breathe with my baby’s breasts, although the wrinkles on my face have long looked like the Moscow metro, why isn’t this a reason for us to talk to you again?

There's wind and dust in the devil's cradle again

Why isn't this a reason for you and me to talk while sitting at home?

How many roads, trails or holes do I have, cold poplars, home and food?

Reasons to prick yourself there for a long time, praying near a well, falling for water, looking for

I can’t look for heaven under the manifesto, because I will die for what has long been beckoning me since childhood

I carve a crimson moon on four elephants so that dreams do not fall from fear of an orderly death

Fate is locked in a powerful lock

And just now I forgot my exact password

I don't understand how I can remember it

in a city where a dead area trolls you

I don’t understand how I can use life other than

tell yourself I'm kind of drunk

burn in the cold during the day in order to sleep in the house

drama trolls us to remember the start of PAA

I have no friends, their graves lie at the bottom of my glasses

I forgot how to love, I don’t give a damn that this bitch will be upset

I lost feelings for you when I spent the night at cold train stations

and sang to the trash about a train ticket to go home and start all over again

the wheels will remind me that I was once a man

and believed in yourself to believe in you, but you don’t have to believe

you're nothing more than dust, I'm nothing more than god's invention

I’m not looking for a quarrel with you, because we’ll all burn in this smoke near the house

I look at you through the holes in my palms, and I see through you

you sing about a hard road without ever leaving the room

the poison will no longer warm me, but I will pay half asleep for the expense

and the eyesore will become a lens, covering the half-dead pupil

Sometimes in the ice of the methodon,

I see right through who you are

tongue is a drunken fire

and life is just a strange death

in the ice of the methodon sometimes,

I see through who you are

you've been looking for yourself for so long

that you have long forgotten who you are

in an open field on the ground

there's a bear walking fast there

cape by the sea on the water

washed the skeleton

lost soul, blood dripped onto the skull, than we are generous

bondage outside the door davist bones servants wheezing

driven to anger by the worms, loudly itching the cracks

drank ate laughing remembering me

I will always be hungry

hotter than a joint in a frying pan

cultist and nugget cutting chin with scissors

sent the skin of the face to rewind

and we are there, where the houses and fields are, where the lighthouse plays, where the poplars are burning

and the ship in the seas dropped anchor at the bottom very brightly bro

for some reason the water in the poison is

right?If love is dripping, is it a hot glass?

Mulled wine near the box your head

And I fuck you in the ears and you see how fucking you like it

Will I always be the best hearer?No bazaar

At least for someone who is sick like me

A modest joint is smoldering in her hand, she will add THC mmm into my blood on my bones

the ears will remind me that I was once a man

and believed in yourself to believe in you, but you don’t have to believe

you are nothing more than dust, I am nothing more than god's invention

I’m not looking for a quarrel with you, because we’ll all burn in this smoke near the house

uh You won’t get this communication out if we sit down at the table

grab that joint from the kents so that it becomes easy for you to smuggle with me

the poison will no longer warm me up, I’m honestly tired of enduring for a long time

these are little things, because later you and I will have to walk in a loop