Sharon - Ра Сияние - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

If ignorance is bliss, then Down Syndrome is pure euphoria,

Not everyone will see tomorrow's bottom live on screen.

The shackles have squeezed our brains, and it's hard to think outside the box,

So they decided: democracy is needed under a despot's regime.

And this despot and tyrant, a hole in his consciousness,

The mirage that everything is permitted will again be shown on the blue screen.

And, sunbathing on this beach, paradise is closer than ever,

And it's not scary not to be, but it's scary not to be crazy sometimes.

Decades will divide the years, a game of decadence,

The desire to be overripe beyond one's years.

How not to miscalculate, going from house to house and from bar to bar,

Like White Walkers wandering through local depths,

Because in this game, the rules encourage kicking people in the legs from behind.

So that contact with unearthly pleasure is to the point of exhaustion,

To achieve the goal, it's not necessary to know the rules of driving.

Birth is the point of no return, and you're already there,

Where crescent moons, crosses of the devil and beasts are happy together.

An overabundance of our own lags,

Walking near and around.

They did, they did, they did, they did, they did what?

And who is to blame?

A metaphysical hole here, it's an overfilled crater with various degenerates.

If you disappear, the locator won't find you.

An overabundance of our own lags,

Walking near and around.

They did, they did, they did, they did, they did what?

And who is to blame?

A metaphysical hole here, it's an overfilled crater with various degenerates.

If you disappear, then it's fucked up.

Eternal Russians of pure reason, glasses on the table,

Those who were lucky snatched this ball of shattered destinies, broken toasts. To set off on a solo journey? More like an attempt to put up a barrier,

But so that there's a chance to annoy even a lamppost.

Here you have a home, gray-haired dogmas, sit here and howl not at the moon, it's just a lampshade.

May pain visit you! It will drench you like a fire hose,

Devour you like a crocodile, shoot you with a cunt.

For every philatelist here there's always a matching piston.

And as long as everyone fits in the selfie, a journey at sunset,

At best, you'll open your eyes, embracing something feminine,

But after a night with a succubus, everything will be used against you.

Twisting the noose, the fleeting threads of life, you'll slam the door on your way out.

And how many such drowned kittens are there, besides those outlined in chalk?

And how many on the approach to the kingdom of Hades want their soul to burn?

Half the continent is gripped by withdrawal syndrome,

And the authorities don't care, falling into oblivion - diminuendo.

An overabundance of one's own lags,

Walking around and nearby.

They did, they did, they did, they did, they did what?

And who is to blame?

There's a metaphysical hole here, it's an overfilled crater with various degenerates.

If you disappear, the locator won't find you.

An overabundance of one's own lags,

Walking around and nearby.

They did, they did, they did, they did, they did what?

And who is to blame?

There's a metaphysical hole here, it's an overfilled crater with various degenerates.

If you disappear, then you're fucked.