I woke up on the couch at lunchtime
With a quadrangular head,
Rat-bitch, I'm hurt by you,
Just brought in from the front line.
Someone betrayed or someone jinxed,
Suspiciously silent what's up,
I feel like I'm already in the active phase
My shitty father syndrome,
When the debt is grabbed by the balls, pulls
On guests, on a Christmas tree, on a skating rink,
Although he could have been lying on the couch
And Hark lazily at the ceiling.
No posts, no stories, no airs -
No sparkle, no number anywhere.
I've been butting heads with the world all year
For the fucking two weeks.
I can smell them coming fast,
As without benefit, so without harm.
To be honest, a pig and a rat
Little different year.
A year will pass, in the past the rat will sink,
Like a pig and a rat not in the first,
And I'm lying on the couch again
With a quadrangular head...