We, having exhausted the supply of fun... Bashny.Net

Felix Komarov



We, having exhausted the supply of fun,
Gonna go out on the waters of the Styx.
And not having to whisper I love,
We will become a song from a mix.

At the party,
Put our spirit on vinyl.
And again the needle gash
A simple tune: "was".

Aid — drunk DJ
Jamming Tits Persephone,
Plays music bones,
Shower chopped and moans.

Zeus, dancing on the tables.
In hookahs dark juice gawacha.
The gods are not guided by the fear of death,
But a mortal dream of life without fear.

And God and death note deception
In silent music of creation.
It knows only of the pan,
He played me the poem.