***

it's a song I listen to every few years.
I can't breathe from it.
Ouija, why the hell are you pushing buttons
when you're not asked to?
A trip-retort of the true death process, how did the living manage that?
An accident - the hand of God pushed a button?
Really?

Psychonauts, don't look into all the wells,
you may realize something that will tear us apart.
Thank you Egor, you died so roughly for us.
Us too, yes, thank you too.

“The swing flew without passengers,
without any effort, by themselves.”
Yes, “hop, skip, skip.” 
I know the words by heart, of course, I'm a Russian man,
I can't not know them.
I don't want to know them, it's too creepy expirience
But I know them by heart.

“Knowledge can be creepy,
but it's more frightening to imagine a man without knowledge.”
?
Carlos, that's not comforting at all.
Creepy is the ego's evaluative response?
Two additional subjects of action?
Reaction is a subject here, too.

This song isn't really a song.
He's a magician. Was doesn't fit here.
“song” don't make me laugh,
Magicians' songs are a delivery route.

They think if they don't know it, they're protected?
It's a delusion.
“Knowledge is scary, but it's scarier to imagine a man without knowledge.”
Ouija, I'd like to ask the traditional question:
What the hell!?

------------------------------------------
Ah, no, the ghoul is legitimized still,
and they're rating even him a little distrustful.
The legitimacy of the criminals is not questioned in the slightest,
it's too complicated for them.
It's more convenient for idiots and scumbags to equate power and country.
Fight the country, of course,
with people like me, not with people like him.
We see everything.
The karmic boomerang has been set off by you,
and it will probably come back, you idiots.
It's a weapon you have to know how to use.
Yes, the throwing of half-eaten bones
is a great Australian art.

With “like”, “other”, hop, skip, skip.
It's a swing with no passengers.
What do I care?
Ouija, you didn't answer.
What the hell?

But the idiots and their trusty mattresses are fighting heroically against me,
it's ridiculous,
Hello, I think the real enemy is on the other side.
Or is he not your enemy?
That's an interesting setup.
Mattress, you're overplaying your intolerance.
Power and country are not the same thing, you idiots.

Ouija, I can't reason with idiots,
no one can,
let the Kremlin singer sing to them,
the international cartel,
they like her and they don't like me.
Well, what I'm saying is,
you have horribly bad taste, darlings.
Serves you right.
Don't be gloating.
Okay, I'm a humanitarian.
By thursdays.

whoever reads this should know that song,
but they don't know it. they never had to die.
so the feeble-minded mattress will always be self-sufficient
in its indignation
Grandpa, two guitars are a song within a song, just like here.
There are normal songs there, but here is hell within hell?
Yes, but the form is preserved.
To hell with such a form?
You are a romantic, someday we will play Amur waves.