A bit cloudy today - bullshit
|
Anton solved questions, is it difficult for him to be a god
|
And how much does a dose of joy cost if sadness costs nothing
|
And does he want to be where everything is decided
|
Dog eyes wet with drops
|
The soul whines, scratches with its paws
|
Full packets of cigarettes
|
Mineral water and letters with bouquets of roses
|
Dog eyes wet with drops
|
The soul whines, scratches with its paws
|
Full packets of cigarettes
|
Mineral water and letters with bouquets of roses
|
Where does the river flow and where does it originate?
|
On the waves, taking off wet clothes
|
Mixed with foam and hopes
|
To the south with a wet back, enchanted
|
Snowy beauty stood Anton, white velvet
|
The mountains sparkled with carats there
|
That freeze frame smoothly, the way it should
|
Slowly the snow melted, turning into moisture
|
"Everything will be as usual," he thought.
|
Millions of flakes will bring down the mountains and drown the dream
|
This afternoon fate promised Anton
|
New powers, all the strongest sides
|
Naked bodies on the ground intertwined
|
Hands stroking their fingers, digging their nails into the waist
|
Where the mother looked at the pictures of the children
|
And together with them I dug into the chronicle of days |
Anton is sick (freezes), winds blow in the city
|
On gusts of drunken air from the mouth
|
Curved rails, steel strips
|
A burgundy sunset burns in the car window
|
At the platform, full ladies give for money
|
What is missing (enough yesterday)
|
And Monday is already toiling
|
Olgino, stop "Lenin Square"
|
Anton fell asleep at Udelnaya
|
As if drunk as an insole
|
Aunt Vita visited him in a dream
|
Mother, father and friend Nikita spoke together
|
It can be seen that it was a difficult day yesterday, it is noticeable
|
Anton was at home, but in this house of the wind
|
And how this damn world will be mine
|
If my mother can betray me?
|
Where can I go from the cloudy eyes of those people
|
After all, I grew up with them? |
And what is the reason for my anger?
|
Houses flashed from the car window
|
Anton is losing his youth in the city
|
He was met by clusters of dusty rowan
|
The eyes of innocent children - future psychos fucked with AIDS
|
To the side where the spiers burned with fire
|
The dogs growled at the back of Anton passing by
|
How many years has this city been sinking under the scum?
|
In one moment he will close his eyes
|
Where does the river flow and where does it originate?
|
Still, questions tormented |
The next day, Anton already got to the center
|
Meter by meter straight to the temple,
|
But first I decided to go to the shawarma
|
In such places they usually burn the time of the individual,
|
But here everything was somehow atypical
|
Too many matches, too many hand wipes
|
Too many cameras on the walls and no one around
|
There were no familiar eyes, empty pepper pots
|
Girls in aprons, singers singing in speakers
|
Paranoia enveloped Anton in an instant
|
Pounded on the ears "tic-tirik, tick"
|
Don't wake up, we're not judging yet
|
Where do these screams come from?
|
Voices, drops, dog eyes got wet
|
The soul persistently pulled to the temple,
|
But the disfigured thin body somehow sat stubbornly
|
It must be hard to be a god
|
And should they be at all? |
Why be God?
|
Anton sang (la-la-la-la-la)
|
I freeze, winds blow in the city
|
Bullets fly in the city, the body freezes at any time
|
The topic is interesting, time feeds the demons
|
Time, where is my faith? |
In the morning I was heading to the temple,
|
But in the evening I fell asleep again on 'Udelnaya'
|
And now Tuesday is setting its rhythm
|
How could I kill time while being killed myself?
|
Half-covered, half-dressed, lying by the stage |
I was woken up by drunken bartenders
|
Dog eyes wet with drops
|
The soul whines, scratches with its paws
|
Full packets of cigarettes
|
Mineral water and letters with bouquets of roses
|
Dog eyes wet with drops
|
The soul whines, scratches with its paws
|
Full packets of cigarettes
|
Mineral water and letters with bouquets of roses
|
Dog eyes wet with drops
|
The soul whines, scratches with its paws
|
Full packets of cigarettes
|
Mineral water and letters, letters, letters |