"No, never, I was nobody's contemporary
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I don't have such respect
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Oh, how I hate some kind of namesake
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It wasn't me, it was someone else."
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Voices in my head
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They appeared there quietly, like lunar craters
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But they argue loudly, and things often end in fights.
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They howl, crackling and trembling like a needle in a scratched furrow
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They have a lot in common, but I have not heard two more identical
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I sometimes say them with quotes, they also often cheat
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Ready-made phrases taken from somewhere
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They are in every cell of mine, in every atom
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This cannot but rejoice
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I am protected by their experience,
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Like a knight - tournament armor
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Under each leg is a giant's shoulder
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Oyster looking at the world from their shells
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In their honor I blow my song,
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Like an hourly cheinal from the church above Krakow
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New spurs dig into the flesh - Pegasus gallops tired
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Before you grind something with your tongue, read the elders
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Honor the elders, the amount of experience
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This is important when the flow rate tears the attic terribly
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Blows the tower to hell, not for the sake of the left sticky uncover the gadget
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Take a break from memes to the classics - read the elders
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Honor the elders, the amount of experience
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This is important when the flow rate tears the attic terribly
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Blows the tower to hell, not for the sake of the left sticky uncover the gadget
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Take a break from memes to the classics - read the elders
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"On the scales of a tin fish
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I read the calls of new lips
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Could you play the nocturne?
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On flutes of drainpipes?
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Poetry is the same mining of radium: mining in a gram, labors in a year
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Exhausting a single word for the sake of a thousand tons of verbal ore
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Someone yells, “Those lines are stolen! |
Shame on the lyrical castrato!”
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The other, on the contrary, will be pleased with the “decor of a majestic quote”
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Someone will not notice a seam at all,
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No stitched pieces at close range
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The other one will not even enter the topic:
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“Listen, it’s good to chatter! |
Gimme hardcore!
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Culture has disintegrated into mold,
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Linden honey, stencils and collages
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I drag everything that lies badly to the beat
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I am a priceless wast and a spender and a marauder
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I am the most fashionable in the USSR
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Bast shoes changed to a cylinder and varnished shoes
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The whole "Angleterre" is on the ears - it's me writing the track
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There is a cue ball in my room
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It will be a fit with the ghost of Seryoga Yesenin
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Floor, walls and ceiling resonate to the beat
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I drive on vinyl with my hand, like on Ouija
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I'll stop the old record there,
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Where is a good sample?
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And I will call the spirit, and I will chat with him about
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How the city hell has shed in a century
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Is our Gomorrah like their Sodom?
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Or I didn’t really smell gunpowder
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How would I look there with my tongue -
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Like a Papuan or like Miklukho?
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I'll drown in the lava of time
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With their voices screaming like the second Terminator
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And again the quote is open, again the beginning of the quote
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"I like it when the stones of battle
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They fly at me like hail of a belching thunderstorm
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I just shake my hands tighter then
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My hair swayed bubble "
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Honor the elders, the amount of experience
|
This is important when the flow rate tears the attic terribly
|
Blows the tower to hell, not for the sake of the left sticky, uncover the gadget
|
Take a break from memes to the classics - read the elders |