Текст песни psychedelicapathy - всё надоедает
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Всё прошедшее ушедше. Худшее это сейчас. И завтра ещё нет. Мы забыты. I do get tired. Quickly. When turned off the hot water, public transport is beginning to resemble a garbage truck. I hate the window, because it is one form. This apathy. The sky changes color and form. I hate clothes - she had one purpose. Paper smolders under its own sun rays, and we are not the same at all. I hate you. I am afraid of monotonous wall. I am my own disgusted with their one-sidedness. It annoys me too often, "I", including those belonging to me. Water does not flow on the palms, because they are out of the water. I look at the ceiling. Roofs laugh at me. It does not rain. It annoys me to tinnitus humiliated your patriotism. Top rope. And no one loop. I would have laughed. If I had my mouth. Too slowly destroying the brink of possible. This is my least exasperated. I plunge into apathy. But I do not know how to row. I do not know how to swim the oceans materialistic shell of reality. Supernova is inevitable and farce. Holographic images of the gods and their pants. I do not belong here. I'm shell-shocked to the tips of shoelaces. I am afraid of relationships. I do not take to the ranks. Trees bark do not last long. A turn of the social status never become a caterpillar. Green - it's not the color of nature. This is the road. Stops on request. And I do not like to weigh fate. Sometimes it is frequently only in the past tense. I drip. But it does not follow. Rabies ball in a square frame. I do not see you. I'm closer the wind behind the closed door. It's very hard to mayhem. Absolutely nowhere. And I cry, cry, cry. But I forget the sound. Mouth dull littered with unnecessary letters. Tosca around again. Rancid thought of the possibility of salvation. I do not know how to survive. That hand, that knife. This is the future, that's fed stomachs. Here's head, that's the ceiling.
All of a bygone past. The worst thing that now. And tomorrow yet. We have forgotten.
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