And at least there is never a movie here
|
Where the belly was, there were swings, but
|
Only butterflies have not hovered here for a long time
|
They were, but frozen in drops of amber
|
They were and flew in clouds full of poison
|
And those flashbacks are kept by both blatkhata and tavern
|
And there are so many flashbacks
|
But they don't help like a free lawyer
|
Stupidly covered the whole body
|
Miraculous from the effects, from the wine or it's up to you,
|
But my butterflies will fall asleep in the ghetto
|
The receiver gave out not melodies, but white noise
|
That night with wine, like in an old movie
|
Will no longer spin us like a spindle
|
And those butterflies in our stomach
|
They no longer fly into the light in the dark
|
And at least there is never a movie here
|
Where the belly was, there were swings, but
|
Only butterflies have not hovered here for a long time
|
They were, but frozen in drops of amber
|
The wind is in your pocket. |
Yun and unknown
|
But my streets will appreciate these new songs
|
Tipulya blurted out: "They don't talk about love"
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But that same night I spent his money on you,
|
And only the butterflies have cooled down and two are guilty
|
Now all the cognac of the planet will not drown the pain,
|
But so lighter and with him in share these creaking beds
|
I am such a stoic here at the bar counters
|
That night with wine, like in an old movie
|
Will no longer spin us like a spindle
|
And those butterflies in our stomach
|
They no longer fly into the light in the dark
|
And at least there is never a movie here
|
Where the belly was, there were swings, but
|
Only butterflies have not hovered here for a long time
|
They were, but frozen in drops of amber |