Quiet place time doesn't move
|
Jars of pickles on buses are popping
|
Dry rays of the sun fall on the Hungarian book walls
|
Humpbacked shelves Yugoslavian chair is bored in the corner
|
It’s unlikely that anyone will rest to their heart’s content
|
It is littered with a blanket, bags and old rags
|
At the table on oilcloth, a local resident fell asleep
|
There is no other place in the world that smells like this
|
This is a stunted yawn, even too lazy to let out
|
Drives a minibus proud that he was a grandfather in the army
|
The radio tape recorder rotates the magnetic film backwards
|
All the minutes in the world coincided in one
|
The roads of local residents are mourned with one tear
|
Mobile hookah over a dry river
|
Russian rap and smoke are sweeter than all flavors
|
Dirty wind like a blind walks snorting slippers
|
Patrols at the collapse are given for a five-hat
|
Son whining aunt looks into the distance with dark eyes
|
Shufutinsky is unlikely to be able to turn the calendar
|
In the eyes of a doctor and fingers like a rosary are sorting through cheese
|
The pigtail is held by rusty screwdrivers on the pocket
|
Credit cards are not accepted here
|
The son brought an empty bag instead of five
|
Childhood crawled like a wounded man through the square |
Heated asphalt in the imperial corridor kitchen
|
Office worker frozen over white paper
|
Endless heat replaces the eternal cold
|
You can not make the bed, you can not open your eyes
|
Snow will fall on the face from the black ceiling
|
Volga or aka stands in the yard like a tank
|
In Victory Park, how many times did it click at the temple
|
The creak of a tired flute weather vane over the threshold
|
Long waited for change so that the blood curdled long ago
|
Pious as children lying muffled moan
|
Above all the white light is a purple lampshade
|
Brains flow back through a broken temple
|
Like sand in a watch when you turn the screen upside down
|
What was I doing, yes, I was just watching this dream
|
From the world of the living to the world of the dead, slowly moving
|
Brains flow back through a broken temple
|
Like sand in a watch when you turn the screen upside down
|
What was I doing, yes, I was just watching this dream
|
Flowing along a gradient from white to black
|
Random mistress took my phone
|
Liked my posts on Instagram
|
Seems like three and a half months
|
Our taxi arrived at the wrong address
|
The sleeping area writhed in eternal passive aggression |
I downloaded the app and made a reservation at the first house I came across
|
Look, there is a trash can machine with drinking water bar
|
I climbed into my jeans with a cold hand, the dick crumpled on the palm of my hand
|
My mistress smelled like an ashtray, I've had a fume for many days
|
We tried together for a while like the dead in a common grave
|
A few days later they stopped feigning passion
|
Wait out this romance and the winter will thaw, strength will return
|
Crossed the road, sat down at the table, wrote with a pen in a notebook
|
If you lose your phone, forget to pay for the Internet
|
Stop buying groceries
|
Answering everything in monosyllables will cut off unnecessary connections
|
The fluctuation of life will come to naught
|
Pouring balls in one evening you will begin to communicate with the dead
|
And friends and relatives and people from the past came to me
|
Everyone's fate turned into an equation or a little verse
|
Sheets piled up on the windowsill, nothing bothered
|
Calm as the face of a psychopath became my style
|
Without knowledge, the cold came and gutted the streets with me
|
A devastated April was the backdrop for a perfect utopia
|
Without people voluntarily locked in cages |
Their quiet howl did not evoke feelings
|
While burning drafts over the stove
|
The long-awaited peace is a pity only the bar is closed forever
|
Nearly empty store
|
On the shelves of tired zombies I collect booze
|
They should drink teturam and quetiapine
|
Why I lived my 35 I didn’t understand point blank
|
And under the sample heard in the grocery from the speaker
|
Emptiness absorbs so as not to let go again
|
Like words that it is better to stay at home in cozy dreams
|
From the side I see the body fall on the laminate in a bag
|
I hear the voice of a friend almost a father
|
From the past, I will help, but it will hurt
|
I jump up as if from a coma from a blow and a sound
|
A hard slap and I breathe in purgatory at night in the kitchen
|
So the living and the dead sometimes help each other
|
Brains flow back through a broken temple
|
Like sand in a watch when you turn the screen upside down
|
What was I doing, yes, I was just watching this dream
|
From the world of the living to the world of the dead, slowly moving
|
Brains flow back through a broken temple
|
Like sand in a watch when you turn the screen upside down
|
What was I doing, yes, I was just watching this dream
|
Flowing along a gradient from white to black |
Did you like the lyrics?
|
Write in the comments!
|
New songs and their lyrics: |