And who would not brand
|
Words through the membrane of the T-shirt instantly cover miles
|
These works are not tired, the inside does not lie
|
Telling me that it's all worse than sensimilla
|
They had no idea what they forgot here
|
On the strike of the sun, the flow of cars
|
And only the abundance of snowdrifts will give greatness
|
Covering all the slush, dressing up my gray Loservilchik
|
And I'm so tragicomic that it's just f*cking
|
Melancholy will habitually respond, in your heart it will skip a beat
|
And if someone took everything literally
|
He will be sick of my lines because they are mirrored
|
Sweep the broom of blizzards. |
While here we feel the strength in the body
|
Give you what we sweat so much
|
After all, it is not the heat of the luminary that warms, it gave us a ride
|
And those who believe in us. |
So special thanks to them.
|
Dig verbal ore and don't whine about the past
|
Like an abandoned bitch. |
Find the good in the bad
|
In a time loop looped like Ouroboros
|
Surrender early so sail higher, Horus
|
Patterns will bloom on the window glass
|
Annual vernissage
|
We are illusory on this white background
|
Together we are almost a landscape
|
The era will sweep by with a yellow arrow
|
will pass us by
|
We're dumb again on the sun strike
|
And we play decadence
|
Pelevinshchina here flowed into Sorokinovshchina
|
These fucking metamorphoses didn't make it easier for us
|
Analyze reality, not to lose vigilance
|
What is not allowed to the bull is allowed to Jupiter
|
I distribute to taverns and eateries
|
Like a brave poet, his interviews
|
Having taken two servings of negroni for an aperitif
|
And I transform all the anger into the purest positive
|
And even if the brain freezes from the crisis of ideas
|
I'll save suicide for the darkest day
|
While a blizzard rages outside the barred window
|
Small town full of wonderful people
|
The sun strikes, which is wrapped in a snow storm
|
But in the impenetrable icy silence and wilderness
|
Our eyes burn so bright that you can light a cigarette
|
And this means that we have enough strength to stir up
|
Another cue ball, covering it with a wave of vigorous lines
|
For those who blow cold with us for ten years
|
And you can easily recognize my slightly sloppy handwriting
|
By adding volume in the speakers and clicking on "Play"
|
Patterns will bloom on the window glass
|
Annual vernissage
|
We are illusory on this white background
|
Together we are almost a landscape
|
The era will sweep by with a yellow arrow
|
will pass us by
|
We're dumb again on the sun strike
|
And we play decadence
|
Patterns will bloom on the window glass
|
Annual vernissage
|
We are illusory on this white background
|
Together we are almost a landscape
|
The era will sweep by with a yellow arrow
|
will pass us by
|
We're dumb again on the sun strike
|
And we play decadence |