With annoyance biting my elbows like caps
|
And the wounds dragged on into life, fortunately almost
|
What is hiding under the scab - a fashionable outfit
|
A list of phobias, allergies and... a stack of notable books
|
A sea of smiles drawn by buoys and
|
An ocean of upside down
|
Today the fantomas, the plague doctor and the harlequin
|
CFS diagnosis, spasms, rabies, fetishism
|
The dream is winged like the shadow of a bird
|
And a quest to find peace among the ridicule and loss of loved ones
|
Fake hiding originals from everyone
|
I pour my grief right into the fuel bay
|
The dog's share does not bring slippers,
|
And the behavior is approximately - hands are tied with a bow tie
|
As a result, and in the father's house
|
It's hard to breathe and I leave his halls
|
We are gone
|
It seems the world is crumbling and
|
Asks tiredly
|
Do not leave, take up the thread
|
And endure his old age
|
And how many truths will go off the rails
|
In damn disputes
|
Everything will heal and everything will pass
|
Soon
|
Dancing in a round dance of white-collar milkshakes
|
In one gulp, break a glass, splinters from chrysanthemums into a wreath
|
A bouquet of antennas catches me on the word, this is for you
|
Like in a theater, lights, window dressing,
|
And what am I, I can get angry like a bitch
|
The mask will not withstand and will crack
|
The crack will crawl like a wounded soldier away from career ladders
|
Run away from everyone, cry to hell in the hem
|
They say that happiness is not in money, not in pantries of goodies,
|
But it spun so that there is no chance
|
We are gone
|
It seems the world is crumbling and
|
Asks tiredly
|
Do not leave, take up the thread
|
And endure his old age
|
And how many truths will go off the rails
|
In damn disputes
|
Everything will heal and everything will pass
|
Soon |