| Putting on a windbreaker, I dive into the city, in which the skin is cold from the past
|
| In which people go crazy and balconies from the gray sky and gray courtyard wells
|
| In one of which, in a two-room musty, filled with the smells of a sad
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| fatigue hut
|
| A baby is crying, in a circle of communal hell, an ashtray is filled with filters with
|
| red lipstick
|
| And something scarlet filled the evening. |
| The wind peeped at them with a careless look
|
| Breaking through under the windows, waving the papers around her and her curls, hid the dark
|
| and wet
|
| Cursed eyes. |
| Stuck in a vase. |
| Old past, it's hard for her to throw away in general
|
| And so not only with flowers, but you are not a saint. |
| Close his eyes, outside the window
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| dawn.
|
| This is how much love this community needs, this is how much to spend on it
|
| Audio plays, in the hut mate on the mate, you take turns sending each other by mother
|
| And maybe enough of this hysteria. |
| You can see how crazy you are with your esotericism
|
| You're waiting for the dark to be replaced by white. |
| Well, what does he drink. |
| Yes, he drinks but does
|
| But apparently to share with someone. |
| Not that schematic. |
| To divide by one is stupidity, how to divide by
|
| zero
|
| The gap between you has long been. |
| You followed the wrong tarot cards, this is rock
|
| This is a rhombus, cube, fire, sound. |
| On one on two. |
| The knock of two fittings
|
| The news tore apart society with a woman's hand, and closing your eyes you managed to
|
| travel.
|
| Battered feeling strength requests made of steel tired and began to corrode
|
| in places
|
| Not your concert, and the bridge is not yours, someone else's lake and not your floor, and everything that was was gone
|
| acquired
|
| What motives led you then, if it is known that the dividend is greater than the divisor
|
| Throwing in about the powder that's in your head. |
| The case was sewn and you can’t hide it in a bag.
|
| Depriving a friend of us and a child of a father, the creator of rap will always look back
|
| Thursday's head is rolling, spewing words turning into quotes. The citadel has fallen,
|
| You will no longer see the vaults of the mechanical plant, You will not shout the trembling of the third arena without
|
| reasons
|
| I always shook your hand, what a pity now my friend is gone and everything is fucked up.
|
| At concerts, hands in the air like a Nazi fascist, I hug my brother, dedicating 2 to 16 to you
|
| As a result, your lines survived the reader, we will meet soon, we won’t even have time to get bored
|
| No knife will divide you, and no wife will be able to take you from us if the heart
|
| pampered (from Nizhyn)
|
| And we are still the same, everything is the same. |
| Dullness, cold and drink, although there is no thirst.
|
| This world seems to have grown cold, no more magic is happening in troubled waters
|
| The dog disappeared, didn’t buy food for the cat, the man and the cloud look out the open windows
|
| And often, when the windows on the streets go out, a holiday will be blown away on the other side of the street.
|
| And a lonely rapper smokes a dose of weed and there's no better way to fly without refueling. |