Текст песни Lucas Kane - Тяжёлые будни недопоэтов

1 part:

Introduction:

I was born, in these tirades I am crazy and tyrant,
& quot; born to fly & quot; instead of crawling, mc writer,
Noses have no strength to wipe.
How did the mother hurt, the force-vision method,
Waiting for global change, here's the & quot; Ovid Metamorphoses & quot ;.

For a short term a high degree has not reached,
And a nervous life as a gift will give a tick, just go,
In the Renaissance of my Magi there are no shining stars in the sky,
Justify your old babble late babbling, but I will observe the post ridiculous.

Part:

Faceless my idea in the temple, in this coliseum, did not go miles there,
I live in a kind of "lost paradise", I'm the first person, John Milton.
And my influx of dualism will surpass the absurd features of Macbeth,
They will remain behind the cordon of the dream "of the poet", I have not honored myself many times as ego.

He began to see himself through the prism of Dante, Virgil, psalms sang in parables,
But the love of music will go to another and die early, like Beatrice.
Themis will not judge, for the scales are filled to the brim with sins,
Astonishment of madness, sin of grace, we must catch the parish.

Who does not have a face, he pulled a Venetian stencil on himself,
Thinking is a solid antinomy, enjoy the colors of Raphael.
Years flew, and the circus mountain, your odes of Horace looked into the water,
Painting died in my convolutions, so we can do without decorations.

Notes burned alive, Hephaestus! The ensemble will disappear!
Where are you my Kallihora? Deaf lighthouse, and inside the corridors.
I am seemingly timid pirate, the wings of angels - first attempt at writing,
Spartak betrayed his people to my coffin, Uranus!

Epilogue:

Who is my black man? Whether you're a personal copper rider,
Framed saber and hinges to the throat, branches instantly stopped,
Ovevaet host of servants of hell, a giant imposing despot plywood,
Absorbed all the quintessence of & quot; Russian Nietzsche & quot; now the devils are in me.

Kronos, turn back the clock, an hour last for a minute, and I & quot; crawled & quot; on the ground
Are required to & quot; His & quot; crucify again, death is inevitable, tightened the cable harder,
That's the whole drama, the tragedy of the creator, this secondary epitaphist,
The life of the hypochondria is tight, but it is the satirical "conformist" ...

Chorus:

My furious, battered friend,
Tell me who came,
I can hear ringing in my ears, idle talk,
Leave the & quot; apple & quot; snake on a whim to them.

And I do not need your title (not needed). I died a long time ago
Break stereotypes, no, not ready!
And breaking on the rocks, it is unlikely to become, like Prometheus,
Not to avoid the clock, so the gong has broken the day.

Part 2:

You are a slavery of battles, merge your skill - my choice to the river,
You are not a county in England, in this sparring to me because you are not "Kent".
I will tear down the regalia at once, the awkward parchment, in piles in piles,
I carry a different style, unique, but lime in my hand!

Do not intend to pretend, believe them, do not forget to pray to me weak.
In this state of mine "Third Rome" (Ream / Stop), all follow in my footsteps!
For me, Marcus Aurelius is a trend, creating here is obliged dangerous, not boring,
If I did in the arena of Trap, I could get into my trap.

I am the flag of this country, the banner, this beef vile booed,
But I am on the right track, because the Star of Bethlehem shines on me.
Still that speculator, the sectarian is flattering, although I have weight - heavy,
I always make decisions & quot; train & quot ;, although I don’t play & quot; West Hame & quot ;.

There can only hip-hop dance to drive, however weighty,
You can try to kill me, but I will finish with Eson.
I am helpless, drowning in the depths of a phobia, throwing an anchor, looking back,
So much closed in his inner world, like Jacob Goliadkin.

There are no medals, titles, epaulets, I was given a rank,
Find the flaws in your relationship to relatives - Otto Rank.
Everything is gray around, as if this eerie place is Gotham, darkness,
I develop further, in the opposite direction, my years of collapse.

I am notorious, mental corrals, imbibed the soul of resentment,
I will join the hockey club for evil in order to arrange a battle for the "Titans".
What is the temperament of the competition? Wipe away tears
Thinking tactics, but calm down, victory for me, because I'm Dmitry Donskoy!

All rebelled, but not consciously, they say, their path is ultimately correct,
You wanted to change the & quot; wind_ows & quot; but you felt the & quot; wind flow & quot;
A lot of puns, metaphors, why no monthly abode? (About myself)
Beautiful epithets, allegories, I simply have no reason to hate an opponent.

I am not going to look for facts, compromising, as a spy is not coached,
Everybody is present, where every duet is, where every train is in masks,
I feed my anger, not in a horse feed, this gnosis smallpox,
It is aimed to tear off the heads of rats, like that Ozzy Osbourne.

And many do not know about me, flick through the info,
There is no sense in this under watchful eyes, and I do not see a pound,
No other currency, interpret the words, you have a desk in the pits,
You look at my picture and come across a & quot; Knife & quot; - Leonardo Da Vinci.