| And you know - that's it, you don't have to try.
|
| I don't know how to forgive, you don't know how to say goodbye.
|
| Honestly, I don’t remember why everything is needed,
|
| But something constantly fires, or something is so wrong.
|
| Everything that happened then makes no sense,
|
| I saw you not so long ago and nothing, I seem to have gotten used to it.
|
| I realized that you are a complete lyarva, a mouse bl *,
|
| Esche always wrote diss on exes.
|
| What always choked, as if unsuccessful, random,
|
| If I wrote about it, then it was necessary.
|
| As for the soul, something like: I won’t repeat myself, I remember
|
| A taste of melancholy in the stuffiest bottles.
|
| In all bitterness, disappointment,
|
| I neglect the thought that you will be like that.
|
| Therefore, I may repeat: well, get lost.
|
| Your head is piled with dirt in such a way that it does not please.
|
| Generally. |
| And the face reads bream,
|
| The rubble of your soul has never been to my liking.
|
| And if it fires, then only memory matters,
|
| Everything that shines is a floor lamp, everything that burns is carcasses.
|
| Slowly, slowly the sky came down to us.
|
| Long and windy, long and... confused our tracks.
|
| Slowly, slowly the sky came down to us.
|
| Long and windy, long and... confused our tracks.
|
| And uncertainly, with sure steps, so carefully... |