A year ago I was sitting on a bench in a public park on the corner of Beckton and Barking,
I thought, both from England to go on foot to the Kings to top of hierarchy,
I imagine all this nakarkal.

Now I hear hipsters. Art bohemia?
"He's from London, where the exhibition, Portobello."
Not realizing that pent up inside the string,

Not realizing that inside the resin Carthage.
Ass Kissing Guy, enemies, journalists, the first compromise, labels-monopolists.
I once, though newcomers to the mayhem.

Everyone who is taller, starch collars.
Was samodel, matchlock, someone did not want to, he was dropped.
We - the hotel, you - the ba!@&(t.

But here a thistle, then if you do not have time, then podoh.
Where do you see success, I - a trick.
I feel like an old man, though I wake up to the riser.

Do not save the grace of the one hundred icons of the mind.
Complexes eaten from the inside, I call it "complete nutrition".
From the concrete cover from London to billboards.

In the club on Malaya Bronnaya blyuyu by Ivan Dorn.
Hang out with the beau monde, asleep in the toilets by chlorophyll, but more often under chloroform
At dessert vomiting with Heineken, my God, how I love myself - Otto Vayninger.

My life - it's adventure Dunno,
Inside out, like a !@^% in the "American psycho".
Aesthetes head and share terms, not knowing that walking their Cerberus.

"Finally, Russian rap recognized" - I do not $#&@ you?
The subculture is growing - a tumor.
Subway does not accept - and God bless her. Estrada like snakes.

I, as a result of - Snape.
All play a role cosplay, my route is no longer slalom and bobsledding.
Go over in vain allegories, meanwhile, my love $#&@ing with someone in Montenegro.

I want a doctor who is better at home, and immediately.
House. Dre. Zhivago. Mengele.
I'll give my own skin, who are to their liking.

Objectives, which came up, do not give joy.
With the E16, where the corner selling poison.
Talker on the left shoulder, Humayun - on the right.

Even big name for a picnic uncle posters
After reading it I Vladi, we write the fit.
And all around nice, but kill me, until I finally dissolute.

I always start confidently, but scoring dick and tone at the coast.
They long snapping, and I decide who I am - underground or corrupt condom.
Virgin did not give up your $$#, say - the principle. But that's in me killed the prince, as Gavrilo Princip.

The universe sleeps, but it seems is going to rain.
Very pleasant, Gremlin.