There are vamp women, we bow before them
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We are heads, as if entering a temple.
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We crave their bodies, because they are
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They showed them to everyone, but they were not given to us.
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At the sight of power and glory flowing,
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Like a faucet, like a fire hydrant
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Having lost everything, we will see dried roses,
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that turn into dust.
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You can't get your buried happiness back
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Even having dug up the earth three times.
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In search of a woman, you released
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Horses and set fire to the huts.
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After all, the air in the kitchen after it
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Thickened and became slimy.
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You were looking for your pride in the cellars of the soul,
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She had never fallen so low before.
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You, you stood on the scales, by weight
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A little more than a sheepdog; |
face: emaciated, withered.
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You watched her videos all day,
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Is that right, dude?!
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Again calls from friends.
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This is their monologue in response - a menacing bark.
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You were ready to kill your brothers for her,
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Pluck the stars from the sky.
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Lungs killed by blocks
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This dark beer is drunk by kegs.
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Her face froze because it was only there,
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If the eyes are closed for centuries.
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But how so?! |
Everything was fine with you,
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Plus - a hut and a wheelbarrow.
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You tried to write at least something again,
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But paper in hand is sandpaper.
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Waving his hands in vain,
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Like an escort liner before sailing.
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In the bars of the girls you looked for wormholes,
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Beyond the event horizon.
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And some time ago
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There, in the heart, love is loading up the pain.
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Now it is for you - this foreign war.
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You have ahead - corn, thaw.
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Dirty, barefoot. |
you strangers
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They escort you home in the morning, you are tired and wet.
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Everyone tells you what you -
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Not in trouble with the head!
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Everyone, like students who overslept the lesson,
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They lower their eyes to you.
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There was a knock on the door, but you are waiting
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Only the one that is gray-haired with a scythe.
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They say everything will be alright
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But for some reason you don't believe them.
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You smack the girls at the bars with your hands,
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Now you stroked her with the same ones.
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Do you remember how you every day before going to bed,
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Did you bring her a fresh bouquet?
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She fell asleep, not knowing
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That these are flowers from women's graves.
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They say I'm crazy.
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I don't have a life before and after.
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They tell me that I'm crazy.
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There is only life “in time”, you understand?
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These were flowers from women's graves... |