Текст песни Shov. - Карабин.

Carbine.

Chorus:
Every time between the trails.
The slings were torn, a couple of lines.
A certain sort of wretched thoughts.
Moves by wastewater.
A strange coffin, an old rabble.
Himself from a thousand voids.
I compose slide fragments.
As old as the Mongolian navy. (2 times).

I could not. Prove. That the whole truth, on the face.
What to get from these wells.
The first is the wheel.
Get it. All the evidence. Lead on the paddle.
No matter how hard we tried here, we were carried away by the current.
Believe it or not.
After all, we do not appreciate it.
Like a thousand reasons.
Arise.
On the problem.
The fact that I am not the highest rank.
Scratching time.
Spent.
It means that the marriage is healed.
The carbine of fate is lost.
Slices of bread, soften.

Chorus:
Every time between the trails.
The slings were torn, a couple of lines.
A certain sort of wretched thoughts.
Moves around wastewater.
A strange coffin, an old rabble.
Himself from a thousand voids.
I compose slide fragments.
As old as the Mongolian navy. (2 times).

I read your paragraph to understand the whole point.
Books without pages remained.
The epilogue broadcast about the path.
The retellings were repeated.
More often than mercury in a vessel.
But thinking went out of hand.
More horror than Hell.
Everything is new.
Uneven.
On the road rushing dream.
Starring.
Not actors.
My conscience is clear here.
Driving, meters, miles.
Bare wires.
On the sidelines over the rot ..
Under the rubble of houses.

Chorus:
Every time between the trails.
The slings were torn, a couple of lines.
A certain sort of wretched thoughts.
Moves around wastewater.
A strange coffin, an old rabble.
Himself from a thousand voids.
I compose slide fragments.
As old as the Mongolian navy. (2 times).