If I were a genius, I would take up singing.
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If I were a movie character, I would live in a house by the sea.
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If I were a dreamer, maybe I worked as a lifeguard.
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But with such joy of a diver, it is impossible to be.
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You just have to be.
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Sometimes go with the flow, sometimes against, so as not to forget.
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The days when we were together, collecting dew in the field, playing in childhood.
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You and me, wine, cigarettes, wake up at night, screaming: "Where are you?"
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I open a volume of Kostaneda, It's boring, night, candles, cigarettes.
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Where are you? |
Where are you?
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Chorus:
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If, as before, I could swim further and watch how seagulls fly in the sky.
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But while the beat of the heart beats out the scherzo, the strings break and the eyes burn.
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verse 2:
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Here is another page, the days around are a whole string.
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Here's another letter, I'm writing to you, it's all the same.
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Another rented apartment, the eleventh move, how nice.
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Friends, purchases, bags, chests, and only you are in my thoughts.
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The faucet is leaking, the kitchen is crowded, the weather outside is like dough.
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In the club, twist, vinyl, tiesta, I'm sitting alone, it's not fair.
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Three rubles and tea in your pocket, Galkin is back on the screen.
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It's not funny, I'm tired of everything, I go out into the entrance - I draw with chalk.
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White-white.
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Chorus:
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If, as before, I could swim further and watch how seagulls fly in the sky.
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But while the beat of the heart beats out the scherzo, the strings break and the eyes burn.
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verse 3:
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If I were a writer, like Chekh, Zhadan, Deresh, or something else.
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I would write many books, I would invite Malvina to the main role.
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I would be just like Pinocchio, I would pierce the paintings with my nose.
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It doesn't matter where in the minefield, as long as the umbilical cord is intact.
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If I could break the walls between us with my hands.
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So why all this business? |
Just move your body, write with chalk.
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White-white.
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Chorus: (2 times)
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If, as before, I could swim further and watch how seagulls fly in the sky.
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But while the beat of the heart beats out the scherzo, the strings break and the eyes burn. |