Singer: The GROTTO. Page 17

One day you'll be quiet and nobody will help
One day you realize: on the Ground, we passers-by.

The light that poured into the ears,
You will not get in a heart stained with anger.

On the prowl for weeks, wandering on the trail of the survivors
Among the chain dogs, hate bitten,
We are happy to find one of the immaculate soul
One hope, in spite of the corrupt world
For thousands of spin one white wing,
Hold units in the swampy pit,
Don't give up, heated a jar of hearts the flame
Drenched with blood, swallow the poison of contempt
Mess with the Horde for one decent looking,
The crowd yells: "Die, not here is your flag!"
And the only one I see in the eyes - "I'm with you."

Miss blue doctor flora or fauna
My son has down syndrome.
So wait, he was carrying like a treasure our
Has back fate, me no one no one asked -
Will I be happy or cry
The father's pride and endless shame.
Boiling youth juicy, closer to June
I gave him a handkerchief to wipe the frothy drool.
And does not force me not to dream about her grandson,
Look for a reason for themselves to impose strong hands.
Nonsense - tears on the pile of hearts
Who will remain with him, except his father.
Night attack with blood, muddy picture
Thank the Lord passionately for a son,
More life like, dirt flies after him,
the hand holding it, go slowly.

And what the ***, since when whims,
Condom in a cassock teaches me from the TV,
To cut me, or to forgive a particular NIT
If you were a "priest" on the crowbars, when there is no choice?!
When adultery presses, potiki move with the club
When you lie, whine, beg leave teeth
Go for you, father, a bad job,
And on the Sly poltos give for the Bible...

Pray for the young, with devils behind the shoulder,
Fury let go, let it be forgiven
Pray for a light in thick darkness,
Yes, people will be drawn to the blood pouring your hand!
Pray quiet night whisper,
While the frenzied knife pampered with belly,
From noon is army collect word
And pray for who is going...

No, not kipici, bring to groves
***s, hit in the head, Hey, even grunts,
Well, football player, ***s! Well, where's your swing?
***and to the crunch - the truth is all in the legs.

Che, received the beer? Supposedly the language is soaked?
Grew his wings and like you have lived?
We still have two-and-a sex, Yes this is not enough,
SchA doganitsa fuck and fly ****La!
And while papirosochka and serious brow,
Tell your story how you hapnul grief!
You used all around shake a paw,
And the local punks will be greeted as "dad".
Have obchitalsya, precisley klikuhi,
Pointwise, in nature, you're a bro.
Silly, but the voice is terrible
You do not forget the main thing that serious.
I can not understand what your showing off
When we raised you, you screamed like a whore!
Beat in the corner, wait for the next occasion,
But don't forget about the power of the Siberian cold!

What you can't see, breathing, living, growing!
What you can't hear the sky rumbling. Forward!
You don't know, but the constellation in disputes boil!
You don't believe, but someone genuinely believes in you!

For *** absolutely - my hut on the edge,
Who and what area do you kill
And for your ass Pikuy that has been warmed.
Yard barking heard behind the glass.

The word strong as Zawawy arrows
Immediately become shit if not sealed with a case.
And how many years already burning fiery speech
And all live in the herd, as something human.

Will soon end all these people out of the sand;
And those who remain will just have to look!

Feel the fire through the concrete layers;
Those who are life burned, after death is not cool!

The sun rises, the bell ringing... in the Sky, the first snow outside the window.
This is my land, this is my home, believe, my son will be her shoulder,
Believe one day you will understand and it is what the saints mourn on the icons
What a smile, but the sadness in his eyes, from which there is no place for us at their booths.
The days of old, the deeds of their ancestors gave way to us, watching the Council.
Think about it, who? Who if not you? Cultivate the new seed, and to remember his grandfather.
Talking about the leaves rustle on the oak and lay on the heart and old wounds.
We have nothing to fear, God is with us, and behind them in support of the mighty archangels...