| When we all leave the fuck, there will be fewer questions for us
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| How much I thought about life, how much this search will accommodate
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| Glass balcony, wings, Khrushchev floors
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| There is a hood on my head, where I stand in the rain
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| And maybe this is a saga, to connect your life with excitement
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| Smoking and exhaling and sleeping in this little bedroom
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| This is Russia - it's cold here, pigeons sleep on hatches
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| I'm 18, but it hurts, and there will be bombs ahead
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| I got ahead of many of the mistakes, all the more
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| The old green Ural no longer drives across the field
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| And I told my thoughts not to sleep that night,
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| But my uneven handwriting lives in this notebook
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| Like origami my city, and who has not seen - did not understand
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| The Miass river of holy will that beckons me from home
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| Look for something new while wandering around the center of Chelyaba
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| Looking into the eyes of passers-by, where I feel them with my skin
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| Emphysema fell red horizon
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| Birds are returning, and happiness is in my eyes
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| And I saw all your kaliks on the golyak
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| Stupidly took it and sat down, stupidly prayed, but did not dare
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| Crumpled the headlines, running to where the laughter
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| In the briefcase everything I managed to run from the sounds of sirens
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| Along unfamiliar walls, my left eye is blind
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| I ate it all, I ate it all...
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| And until the morning no cry at the sight of blood, my
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| Vidik no longer robs, only the Internet and that janitor
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| Something is a signal to hibernate, we all burn like matches,
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| And this speech-link, a personal habit
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| Where water foams us, and goosebumps eat our backs
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| Our shirt life is short and torn
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| The sidewalks will hurt us, where our relatives have walked,
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| And my tracks are like that and I ask you to understand them
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| Repenting on all fours also broke my brain
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| Who warmed my days and melted them like wax?
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| Mom in an undertone, quietly, I fell asleep on my knees
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| I didn't know what I believe in and how time will test us
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| I bend my posture, and Sanya, that I picked up this night
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| It cripples me, well, it should help me
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| White crosses in the meat, and questions in my head
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| - what is my rap capable of and how can I stay here?
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| Fingers slide on the spokes of the wheel with the name Life
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| Eyes look down - at the reflection in the puddle
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| I pulled my hood up in the rain
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| To hear and not go anywhere, at least in this life...
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| The wind pierced the windbreaker, hammered nails into my back
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| Having found the way by touch, wounded - but he walked!
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| Schools of free birds gave me shelter tonight
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| And I just went, hiding my eyes with a hood.
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| The wind pierced the windbreaker, hammered nails into my back
|
| Having found the way by touch, wounded - but he walked!
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| Schools of free birds gave me shelter tonight
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| And I just went, hiding my eyes with a hood |