Samrt Time (Аesi Đenis)

Many interpreters of vocal-audio-musical performances
Singing on the Figaro’s, or some other wedding, regardless
Strained their throats in an attempt to achieve
The ultimate quality of the great one!

Just like in boxing no one got near to Mohamed Tyson Shmeling Clay
Or in literary radio bulshiting to Orson Garcia Hemingway
Just like the royal tv throne never moved an inch
Away from Oliver Orlovich Babovich Balabanovich
Natalie Graph Seles Luchic Bjorn is god when it comes to floor tennis
And in the tragical suffering that is Goplin Karenina Genis!

Time To Die…

One night I devoured some Gean-Michele’s barbeque
My stomach may work as a blender, but it broke down anyway
Nightmares and boogiemen aren’t my cup of tea
Still, I got down to some weird dreaming
It’s me, like, walking downtown
When, suddenly, right in front of me, a well known face,
Head, moustache, beard, and a dark lens

What’s up, Genis Karenina, is that really you?
It’s me, Rambo, you old broccoli, stay cool!

So, tell me, Genis, how are you, what’s happening, do you sing to folks at heaven
Does the man upstairs also blesses ripping of CDs and MCs
What are Bruce Lee, Hendrix, Giordano Bruno and Che Guevara doing
Is that heaven and hell story a froad or just a fairytale?
And tell me, so help you god, why did you shriek while singing
A lot of amps broke down due to your screaming
You made hi-fi snobs run for cover
After you, every speaker would be over

Time To Die…

Oh, Rambo, I didn’t scream for art
Social injustice broke my heart
Racism, corruption, affairs, criminal
American Marlboro original

As far as heaven, it’s crowded in here
So much old folks you can’t even get near
Hendrix’s so drunk he can’t find his own ass
And Che Guevara has a stand, selling Cuban cigars

Tell me Genis, if I were to illegally
Enter USA through Cuba, Mexico and so on
And get a job chopping Chinese cabbage
How much dollars could I count on
For food and rent, do you think I could manage

Sure, Rambo, of course you could
Sheetiest job gets you $50 every day
Rent, food, water, power, you’ll even spare some away
But a Mercedes, BMW and a Cabriolet TV in colour
Requires a lot of backbreaking labour

Time To Die…

Well Genis, my dear Karenina, then you haven’t got a clue
About the life right here, and what’s a person required to do
Here, only politicians and criminals enjoy living
They have Swiss accounts while the people are starving

Back at your place they tax your fat paycheck
While here, they rip you of everything below the neck
Racism turned a lot of people here into targets
But, it doesn’t come from the streets, it comes from the cabinets
There, it’s white versus black
No blacks here, but still, the war is always near

Oh, Genis, I could scream five times harder
But I need to watch my throat (and ass) so I quietly whisper

Time To Die… when the living is easy

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