All the birds fly south, so be it
|
Taking a deep breath, I remain.
|
Damn life strives to bend and knock down my pulse,
|
Sometimes I heard a crunch, Zhenya, shake it on your mustache.
|
Quietly whispered to me the pre-dawn city,
|
But I don't care where my ticket for the nearest ambulance is.
|
Tired of fighting and arguing with myself,
|
Heard hundreds of similar stories, it's not worth it.
|
For a little while this place will be occupied by others,
|
Do not stop the eternal conveyor and the switch is broken.
|
They forget everyone, even those they loved, with the exception of those
|
Whose hearts are inside rubies.
|
Shine on the ruins of convolutions with a dazzling light,
|
Among the dry gray bones of Aztec gold.
|
Will end like a bad dream my stupid stupor
|
The evening does not become more important than the morning folk wisdom.
|
Chorus:
|
Is there a sun in the chest behind the plexus,
|
All of us have a hidden ruby.
|
Not to understand this is to kill,
|
And wind circles through life in vain.
|
Somewhere behind the plexus of the sun in the chest,
|
All of us have a hidden ruby.
|
He is put together from grains,
|
Hear the voice of your heart, not the voice of others.
|
With each new day, requests and needs grow,
|
Our path is strewn with traps and traps,
|
It is inflated at ease, it is unlikely to come out.
|
This is not Johnny, whose arrival has become something ordinary,
|
It's like then in childhood VHS video,
|
Where we saw ourselves for the first time.
|
The world is amazing, immense and disinterested,
|
Where the calendar reluctantly sheds its leaves.
|
Dreams so close I feel the heat from their sparks,
|
The cry of an atheist is faith in oneself and any whims.
|
Crept up like a ghost hovering imperceptibly,
|
That notorious and personal moment of truth.
|
Painter of memory of the brush, poet of thought and rhyme,
|
Cold-blooded surgeon, artist charisma.
|
It is laid in everyone in the depths of the bottomless depths,
|
And the older we are, the harder it is to find this ruby.
|
Somewhere behind the plexus of the sun in the chest,
|
All of us have a hidden ruby.
|
Not understanding this means killing
|
And wind circles through life in vain.
|
Chorus:
|
Somewhere behind the plexus of the sun in the chest,
|
All of us have a hidden ruby.
|
He is put together from grains,
|
Hear the voice of your heart, not the voice of others.
|
Somewhere behind the plexus of the sun in the chest,
|
All of us have a hidden ruby.
|
Not to understand this is to kill,
|
And wind circles through life in vain.
|
Somewhere behind the plexus of the sun in the chest,
|
All of us have a hidden ruby.
|
He is put together from grains,
|
Hear the voice of your heart, not the voice of others.
|
Album: Goodbye Arms!
|
April, 2016. |