A keresés eredménye

Baby

[verse 1]
She scribbles verses on a napkin
At a bar-stand until morning
A girl with a guitar lets her tears drop
On a blouse from Zara
 
Take your change and
Tie those hoarse [vocal] cords into a knot
Entrust and don't cry: everything will turn out
Different, like in a fairy tale
 
[refrain X 2]
Your singing blows minds
But a lurch and you'll find yourself falling
Wake up, baby — you are selling out
You are selling out, selling out
 
[verse 2]
You won't call your former girlfriends
Won't take them backstage
Perhaps they will see you
On a bag of chips, advertising
 
On someone's t-shirt in a crumpled mosh-pit,
On all the bank machines
You will boldly accept any form of payment
Cash or credit
 
[refrain X 2]
 
[Verse 3]
No room in the hall, the show has sold out
A plane carries you off, away from the empty Streets and worn is the seat
From which a little girl reads
verses to her mom
 

Goat

And demons rush to heaven
And the cradle of the devil is empty
Skeletons snap bones
To eat children
And the ancient chains press
And compared to her, rap is holy
Witches are ready for divination
She goes, goes to you
 
We thought there was no threat
Planned to live a hundred years
Shamelessly rolling my lip
We thought she was in a coffin
We thought the wave had passed
Planned baby
Forgetting her, flabby people
She will come back, she will come
 
Vigorous, damned
And enveloped in flames
There is a horned goat
For little guys
 
Knock knock knock (who's there?)
It's me, your mom came
Brought three cans of milk
And five bags of cabbage
Open up quickly
And help quickly
And then I'll pour you a belt
So much so that sparks will fall
What is the goat just about my voice
Did he squeak from behind the door?
Ding-ding, hey kids
Hurry up to reveal who they are talking to
Stop picking your nose with a hoof
Encrypted from mommy to option
I froze on the way
Like the waters of the far north
And I wheeze from a cold now
Here you me, children, do not recognize all seven
It's hard for you unfortunate without a mother
The snot hangs, the tummy growls, and the ass is not washed
I can hear someone's hooves reaching for the handle of the lock
Let me in on the doorstep
It's unacceptable to torture your parents
How tired I am, hard rock
From the market in string bags to carry you
 
(2)
Vigorous, damned
And enveloped in flames
There is a horned goat
For little guys
 
And who did not teach lessons
Tom is uncomfortable in the night
Who ate poorly and went to bed late
This is where Russian rock comes
Heavy drunk and angry
Sneaking around with a dirty head
Laughs spitefully with all his mouth
He drinks vodka and beats women
 

Ice

It's nothing weird that right before New Year
Everyone is taking out loans to pay for a tourist tour
Those who failed to get a ticket1 to the South
Stays in the oven of the capital
Having left their flats and entering the stuffiness of microwaves
Crowds of Moscow citizens have spread out throughout boulevards
They have been imbued with the breath of the engines
They have overheated and they smell like popcorn
Historic heaps are everywhere here
And the atmosphere of the presidency is sparkling
It feels like you are a bunch of shriveled flies
On a sticky ribbon2 hanging in tiny stands in villages
And when the night is falling in this hell full of advertisements
I'm alone as I walk through maintenance works long finished
I'm going to dance and boast
And dissipate my roots in the capital 3
 
But when I dream I see a cold mountain range4 in the Urals
Vertebrae covered by a snow crust
And the snow blanket is crunching and my dad
Who came back from the woods is warmed up by a broth
 
And forgetting about Moscow I'm (rushing) straight ahead
There are no problems or worries in my icy head
But is the ice strong?
Is the- Is the ice strong?
 
It's nothing weird that now coffee is mixed with ice
And it makes sense for men not to wear beards
I wish there was a thunderstorm over the dusty ring (road) 5
And I wish that puddles in the pedestrian subways were deeper
And then allures of the shop-windows and flickering lights
Will shine for someone, but not for me
While I lose myself in rich streets
And I become transparent
And it will wither and shrivel on the acrid fields
Exclamations of advertisements will grow silent
And then I will hear as in the ancient mountains
My range is moving its vertebrae
 
It has always been waiting for me, it called for me
To the train stations that mothers go to in autumn
To see off their daughters that leave for Moscow
To the place where everybody knows me
 
And forgetting about Moscow I'm (rushing) straight ahead
There are no problems or worries in my icy head
But is the ice strong?
Is the- Is the ice strong?
 

• 1. Горящая путевка - a word combination that describes a tourist tour that includes flight, hotel + smth else, and that is sold for a lower price a few days before the departure.
• 2. A sticky ribbon that is put during the summer around the ceiling and that attracts wlies. Once they sit on it they can't get off.
• 3. She talks about a girl that came to Moscow from a small town in the Urals, but who tries to fit in and be perceived as a local.
• 4. The word хребет describes both a mountain range and a spine.
• 5. Moscow is a city shaped like an oval and it has a lot of circular roads that are called Rings for short.

90th

[verse 1, Little Coin]:
I was conceived in the video shop,
While the bullets were flying around
And you could hear barking and howling
Waifs and strays were threatening with a screwdriver:
'Listen, give me the CD!' It hurts, ouch!
 
We used to mix vodka with petrol, drinking like a fish
Only the most cunning ones lived up to ten.
The more irons you get, the rougher your little fingers will be.
Hijacking cars, selling CDs.
 
Territory wars are fun when you are in your dacha with friends
But not so much when it's about your country - it'a a bit different problem...
How can you hit only one guy here and there?!
It's good that these days are gone!
 
[Chorus]
We used to smoke everything but cigarettes
Put it down and forget: what happened in the past will stay in the past
And listening to songs of 'Krovostok' on cassettes
With awe of a child I found out that
 
In the 90th people were killed
And everybody were running naked
There was no electricity
Only fighting for jeans and coke
 
Dudes put on the crosses,
Ironed their cherry jackets
And went dancing - till blood came out of their ears
And only 'Gentle May' was on the radio
 
And I live not so bad, drink tea with sugar
Typing texts on my new Macbook
It's easy to create rhythms in a sunken house
The stories from your grandpa and grandma is enough.
 
There is enough material for a new album in me
I listened to that band - businessmen gave up alive
And the verse is resurrecting from the beat
Everything else is not what I need, and there is nobody often.
 
The spies were giggling late at night
And making patriotic faces
Swearing in English
But it's a fucking trend, means it's okay!
 
We used to smoke everything but cigarettes
Put it down and forget: what happened in the past will stay in the past
And listening to songs of 'Krovostok' on cassettes
With awe of a child I found out that
 
In the 90th people were killed
And everybody were running naked
There was no electricity
Only fighting for jeans and coke
 
Dudes put on the crosses,
Ironed their cherry jackets
And went dancing - till blood came out of their ears
And only 'Gentle May' was on the radio
 
In the 90th people were killed
And everybody were running naked
 

I'm Lisa

I'm Lisa and I'm not cool
I don't even wear jeans
I only take the subway and tramways.
I don't do well in math
I don't get invited to overnights or parties,
but I'm so shy I wouldn't go anyway.
It's just as well that only night, rain and my
network1 buddies know the secrets of my soul.
 
But I have a cool collection
of pictures in the cloud.
What do I need real friends?
What do I need boys and parties
when all my funny little friends
are there on the Internet?
In real life I'm nothing much
but there I'm 'sweetie' and 'cutie'.
 
I'm a mere 3D entity and not even Japanese,
though I intend to change that2 after death.
I try hard to make witty and subtle jokes,
but I keep falling flat on my face.
I don't let my hair grow and don't slim down.
I only sat in a limo once.
I don't play chess, I can't draw.
I'm afraid of revolving doors in stores!
 
But I have a cool collection
of pictures in the cloud.
What do I need real friends?
What do I need boys and parties
when all my funny little friends
are there on the Internet?
In real life I'm nothing much
but there I'm 'sweetie' and 'cutie'.
 

• 1. 'odnoklassninki' is a Russian FB-like with a cloud picture storage, among other things. The name means 'classmates'
• 2. lit. 'become her', i.e. become a virtual Japanese teen idol

Nymphomaniac

Versions: #2
Hard for the wind to drag us along
Dropped by the wind we fall on the ground
You only work together with wine
Forced by delirium state of mind.
Sound of you speaking
Is door latch squeaking
In an old, strange apartment
A cheesy book and
A cheapest ciggy
Are all the things in the world you own.
 
Are you undressing?
Stop, don’t you go below
Get under my skin
Do not reach for my fly.
 
Flask of spirits,
Heavy gasping.
Oh, will you eat my soul up,
 
Nymphomaniac!
 
Grinning with the glazed tiles she pulls up her t-shirt
Time to put the Mandelstam’s book back onto the high shelf
Spent my morning burning poems, all the lines go bye-bye
Check the ashes. See the balanced chaos of the verses?
 
Past the roofs, past the doors I fly by far and wide
I’ve forgotten my home, left my temple behind
You’ll become lost to me, not a memory to show
You are heavenly plain, nonetheless I will go.
 
Are you undressing?
Stop, don’t you go below
Get under my skin
Do not reach for my fly.
 
Flask of spirits,
Heavy gasping.
Oh, will you eat my soul up,
 
Nymphomaniac!
 

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