| Dolphins swim in turquoise distances
|
| So wave them back with your tiny hand
|
| Don't forget how before going to bed we chose
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| Who is better, Jarmusch, Ethan or Joel Coen
|
| Such, do not meet your eyes
|
| And for the third time I stay in the pan
|
| With your tainted love
|
| Julia, I'm sorry you don't want to
|
| So that I live with you
|
| You fade like a supernova in the darkness of the terraces
|
| I so want to go back to your leopard backpack,
|
| And I'm not there, but behind my shoulders
|
| And if everything gets worse for me tomorrow
|
| You will be happy, I promise
|
| And it seems that I'm in Petersburg, and everything is not so terrible
|
| Memories to the heart of the caterpillars of tanks
|
| Every time I pass through
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| Embankment of the Fontanka River
|
| Ready to stand in the queues of state institutions
|
| Stationery dust of passport offices
|
| Inhale like a speedball to complete alienation
|
| And how to save love in fucking melodramas
|
| Orderly washing musty ambulances
|
| Handymen to listen to impudent tsunarefs from the mountains
|
| And even as a fucking waiter, I would have been arranged
|
| And now the drunken boar is yelling at me, they say, "Will there soon?"
|
| Everything will be like in September and childhood
|
| I will stop drinking and swearing
|
| And I will ask you for hands and hearts
|
| In the abandoned village of Murmansk-130
|
| We'll tell the whole world to fuck off
|
| And no more rap, booze and suffering
|
| And you will never cry again
|
| And we will name our son Danya |