абуя ко - маяк
текст песни

The dirty smell of the white father’s basement, current under the dressing room. A lonely frozen body sinks in bed, imagining itself the Lord of the living Seas. His proud schooner goes around the ten -meter wave, fidgeting with an ice hand along the wet sheet. The body kicks, shifting the center of gravity to the side. The flow against the wind. What could be worse. Two twisted legs at the chin are thrown through the blanket. The schooner takes off over the water and falls, spraying the brown saliva of the fingers dangling in the mouth. The window is open in the white basement. The street is clear on the street, but it blows strongly, not as before. With a whistle bursting into the window, the wind hits the lonely wanderer in the sail of the schooner. The body turns onto the side. The body writhes in pain. The last jerk in the abyss. The schooner flies into the wave and sides sketches scatter, throwing his head to the back of the bed. The schooner, half mired in the water, continues its way. A lighthouse is visible in the fog of the blue cloud of sea salt. He illuminates hope. Unattainable, but quite suitable for the dream that you need to strive for. The legs of the bed begin to stagger. Red foam pulls the schooner, throwing it out of a small mouth. The schooner is doomed. There can be no night without a day. There can be no salvation without sorrow. The body does not give up. Small pens clung to the mattress. The schooner completely goes under water. After a second, she flies out of the vent of bottomless abyss, scratching her palms into the blood. The nostrils swell. The purple blanket falls to the floor, covering the western spot of the Azediprol. The white basement is constrained. It is filled with languid moaning. A barely audible, but restraining Killer, captured by the ear, in spatial stress. Like an ultrasound, with a creak cutting a smooth hand of an inter -time shell. The schooner, beaten but not depressed, sets a course on the lighthouse. The sniffing breath of the distant. Great view so as not to die today. The schooner slowly but purposefully originates. In the lower renunciation, the water is now warm, calm. Stupid smirk four years ago. I could not. And you couldn't. And now what? The body suffocates, eagerly licking his teeth with a viscous tongue. The storm goes into serenity. Taking your last strength. Eyes roll up. The metal door of the white basement explodes. Ugent people fly up. They put the body on the side and promise that everything will be fine. A karmin coil crunchs in the mouth. Light breathing with a nose. And the lighthouse remains so. Inaccessible, but quite suitable for a dream.