TillyRiddle - Crisis Blues | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• TillyRiddle
• Crisis Blues

We were born in the middle 80th
When the whole country fell on its knees,
Stack between two gaps:
No more wit generation,
Not yet age of sex.

Big poet died for a cheap singer
To sing his rhymes.
There'd been seen no catchers
In the field of rye,
Time to clarify,
To give you advise:
Search no paradise.

Life is a mystery worth to live,
We brace ourselves trying to relieve,
Gulping down beer and driving away
Existential fear.
This rootlessness drives me utterly mad,
If you don't understand this,
It's a personal fad,
I've got this blues, mama,
I've got this blues,
I've got this blues.

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