дима флекс - дарт мол - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Someone on the internet is wrong, and this time it was me who said something. It turned out to be bullshit, I don't give a shit. A smokescreen of secrecy hides a loser inside me. I'm scared offline. You can't use your wh. I'm shy as a titan. The neighbors don't sleep loudly. I consigned them to oblivion for silver coins. They talk shitty to the cops about me, it's probably hype. It's easier for me to believe in a fucking god than in myself at work with a red face. It's definitely a tan. I'm the devil from the astral plane. Darth, they say, takes a double-edged cotton swab and cleans his ear canal to the ground. The morning will suddenly begin not with coffee but with a glass of juice. A grenade launcher in one salvo. I seem to have burned out on work, pretending to have my mouth locked. I'm hooked on sports again, but verbally, after beer, I'm Kobe Bryant. I don't stand on ceremony, but I'm a master at falling into the out. He took a dog hair belt off a rapper. Husky, where? Blood always rushes, growth, prosperity, but where it came from, it's completely dead. Mark has wear and tear and a runny nose. I also went to Valhalla with a kick, like in Sparta, in a ditch, the suspense is building for this joke. I'm rummaging through the album "Immaculately Conceived" on Smark, no longer together like before, multiplied by zero. I'm playing with myself in squid from Underground on Low Ground. I was looking for my true self in mirrors and found a doppelganger. Everything is not what it seems. He's different, wrong, more angles and edges. Ragdoll in animations is pushing forward where I was backing down. What a fuck-up. I'll burst with envy. We're not the same substance. Nuclear kombucha from a can screams that it will give us Nagasaki. I don't give a shit. I turned my eyes to the job search in the browser window with a porn site. I slept poorly from headaches. I'm throwing up into the toilet. The intracranial modest thing is not famous for its scope. I repacked myself, became tense, got caught in the crossfire, yokai Khattab saved me like Chulpan Khamatova with a sewn-in crack, my gills began to breathe in ammonia vapors, cat paws crammed me into a hookah, I feel an abundance of bullshit and silence, charcoal activation now exclusively with a detonator on command, friends say fuck you, I promise I'll try, but the result you know, I got up every time and no matter how much I am carrion, tissue necrosis, my favorite T-shirt is worn out, I turned myself inside out and there are double standards, surimi, imitation crab, made an offense, a fucking chitinous shell protects my hikkan guise from objective reality, I hate myself like a mango in every tropical mix, a piece of bullshit that is unpleasant to me, an ambulance of helplessness with a flashing light hit my mortal sack of bones, I shoot a no scope with my own blood from The driver, with his mouth full, poured gas into the camera with my burnout. This partner isn't combined, otherwise it would have driven me crazy. Despite the drugs and expectations, I'm being knitted by a granny, a swamp, riot police, and persimmon. I'm a warm hat, a horned moose. I reposted on VK. I was Neo, I gave the finger during interrogation, and they glued my mouth shut. There won't be any fights in slow motion. Behind me is a green screen, not an elephant. Roll model Epifantsev, cardiac vascular haptophobic, don't touch me with your finger, master of contactless abstraction. I once pretended to be dead. Am I stupid? Should I come back to life? I graduated from the beekeeping institute with a medal.