OneIceX - Круги и нули - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Hunger and cold have worn out the neighborhood like an iron.

Streets, Couture, Youth Theaters, sketches.

Distinctive parties, everyday life, rituals.

No censorship, no cuts.

The hands of smoke stand like soft velor on a clock.

Like circles in puddles and zeros on a counter.

And a bullet is a fool when you let it get close.

It will hurt you, or you won't feel anything.

A chandelier around the city will spur someone on their way. Cops, like horses with brands and shod shoes, will change the weather in the house, most importantly.

And all the other fuss will be caused by cats in the catacombs.

There is no love in these neighborhoods.

We play like a builder plays a game of Covid.

My dream city is not simple.

This flow is nigretos.

That hunger to the point of pain.

Roots go underground. My pulse is racing like a Boeing

You can't fly to a five-star hotel or a luxury suite with it

And anyone can afford it here

Two meters from the sea in the photo against a wallpaper background

Formula Pharm, not Formula Van

In these black neighborhoods, all that shines on us is the headlights

Black wings above us like the Philadelphia Flyers flag

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Hunger and cold have ironed out the neighborhood

Street haute couture, youth theaters, sketches

Unusual parties, everyday life, rituals

No censorship, no cuts

The hands of the clock stand like soft velor, smoke

Like circles in puddles and zeros on the counter

And a bullet is a fool as soon as you let it get close

It will hurt you or you won't feel anything

The taxi driver was a Tajik

To the Villa La Riba Villa Baggio, looking for an exit from the slums

Flying down the wrong side of the road, we'll reach the finish line without any fuss

But with at least cracks in the windshield

The rain is pouring, the car is racing

All the chatter is here, and sometimes a brother is stabbing from behind with a feather

But the ice won't pierce the heart

And the river flows

Hey, you, reception from the streets, holes where reception is captured right in the daytime, but no evidence with him

In the dark

A ferry arrives on the right bank

And the river flows

And the tarot won't tell you how the boxes are in these courtyards

Don't burn out and mature to old gray beards

People are waiting for pie

They were told to sit, there will be cake

Their guts feel it will be the other way around

Hunger and cold have ironed out the block

Streets, Couture, Youth Theatres, sketches

Distinctive parties Everyday life, rituals

There's no censorship, no cuts

The hands of the clock stand like soft velour, smoke

Like circles in puddles and zeros on the counter

And a bullet is a fool when you let it get close

It will hurt you, or you won't feel anything