| Midday demon is the smallest
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| Most importunate
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| His shoulder strap dangles from one buttonhole
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| Once upon a time, it's easy to fix
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| And at noon I still sleep
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| This demon comes in advance and sits on a chair
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| Gets up, walks around the room
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| Casts a glance, as if from nothing to do
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| So suddenly, he starts to pinch the pellets from his coat
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| At least some kind of occupation
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| All the same branches rustle outside the window, right?
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| Roll up a cigarette, forget about it
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| "Oh, we'll be alive, we won't die"
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| He speaks and grunts
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| Dropping one book after another from the shelves
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| He waters the gray flowers
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| Growing from morning buckwheat porridge
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| Well, like in the morning, ten minutes to three
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| And here to show him
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| I quickly finish my second cup of tea
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| I take slippers, shorts
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| And I'm going to sign up for the Hardcore Gym
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| On Proletarian Avenue
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| Weekday, strange hour
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| When the lanterns are lit before dusk
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| I go down to the basement
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| Grandma meets me at the reception
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| Wearing pink-rimmed glasses
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| And he sells me a subscription for six months
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| I don’t stand on ceremony, I just want to drive this demon away,
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| Don't turn up your nose, this is what life consists of
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| Look in the mirror, take a breath
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| put on socks, take off socks
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| Gotta make the bed
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| Which I didn’t manage anyway
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| Why didn't he run it?
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| There was no time
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| There was no time
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| Be human - don't scratch between your legs
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| Does it itches? |
| Go to the toilet
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| Video surveillance in progress
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| Note - penalty
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| Or permanent suspension
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| Written in the locker room
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| The soul was not there
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| I entered as I entered the grocery store
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| No one here took a picture of himself at the mirror
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| Nobody had instagram
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| Eight men like road workers
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| Creaking with old iron
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| Stretching and twisting your tendons
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| "Fuck YouTube, Watch Me!"
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| Written with three exclamation marks
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| On a T-shirt of one jock
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| The smell of sticky sandals
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| There was a fan in the corner
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| Traffic jams in Moscow were reported on the radio
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| It was a work day, weekday
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| Therefore, traffic jams in Moscow were nine points
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| On this I turned around and rushed home
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| It was already dark outside, the demon was gone
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| He usually lags behind when you do something useful
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| Or when dusk comes
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| Of course, I never entered this rocking chair again. |