[Verse 1]
His name is Kamil and he feels like Albert Camus
In the evenings, when the Camels are fired with matches, he drinks down with wine
Sometimes with the stars the tongue is just as drunk as he is
He makes plans here
Walking through the streets at night, he wants to live hard
Until the lead sound disappears with it
In the color of a camel, the filter for him draws the days
He traces his days in the calendar, and the axis of symmetry
Lungs, smokе, thought head
Everything is in it

[Verse 2]
Lungs, smoke, hеad, thought
Everything is in it today
And yet when motherly love protected those centimeters
He looked for depth in this and now that the parliament of Europe
And gangrene mouths want to save his existence
It has its depth and in that depth it has them
Like the written harbingers of that death
Like all the other cancerous texts
The only thing that scares him off is the one with impotence
And 15.40, the rest of the shit like a flag of a band, out of the country of Criminal Flag
Like your urine-colored teeth, how they stink
How is a Ferrari what would he buy if he dropped out for these 12 months
[Verse 3]
And he bluntly says that he likes little studios without balconies
And he says bluntly that he likes little open-air cafes
And those young ladies who are not able to say no to the gentry
Then it turns out that they can't even speak thanks
He's the master of life and a whore when he fires from their hand
They're whores wearing persuasive kuse dresses
Their deficit of attention obscure the charms of their breasts

[Verse 4]
They are students, a big city lifestyle
Vogue lilac, tricolor males, MK handbags
They fucked up when they are asked by a Polish worm about bad things
They fucked up when Enrique wants those cigarettes, Enrique
They're fucked up, but those basins, the capital whores
Orgasms, tablets, indexes
Sessions, sex and durexes
And a few years before that
And a few years before that
School, corks, corks, bottles