On the waves, the goyds sailed quietly away
Ruthenian dreams of grandparents.
A long time washed away by the fucking jets,
Impersonality is familiar in these threads.

Why then is cotton so tormented?
Unbearable cotton-pain great. . .
Why do you try to cover everything?
Getting slapped in the shit out of her.

Ride calmly, do not disdain the militation,
It won't hurt to touch the grass again.
As long as there's no shaking behind the ramp,
He who is not afraid, warns others.
.