Кидалт - Кокон
текст песни

Where I grew up, in a house not quite reaching the windows,
In the yard, playing soccer, a soccer ball hits the floor on the field,
And instead of gray paths in a sea of ​​flowers,
A rainbow of happiness overhead, where litotes, the edge of the path,
Where I am wrapped in a swaddling cloth in a stroller,
A small and sweet filmy cocoon,
But I'm already twenty and chasing grief,
Like fate, the weather won't wash away the sheets with me.
I'm not far, look at my childhood, I'm just a stone's throw away,
Not a shimmer, not a lock of hair, not rags to rip, a cotton sweater to wash,
Speaking indistinctly, casting a glance at the sky and sending it back,
Like a boomerang, but only a caress washes away the stains.
I dreamed good dreams, not with ink, I'm a moralist,
When my world was beautiful with bright colors,
I colored in coloring books and never thought that over the years
My gouache would smudge.
I slept at night, woke up, "Valera, come on, get up."
And only malice burned in the eyes of the young boys.
The stripe itself blackened, adding blots to the brush.
I tore and gnawed, a boy who so dreamed of climbing up.
The steps to the mountains had holes, afraid of falling, but no railings.
Just imagine, I was ten and I wanted to create my own world,
Where I was alone and in a shooting range there by the swamps, among the dull waters.
Added dirt, hip-hop, polluting it with dust, the oxygen in it.
And so it went on year after year, a cocoon ever blacker than black.
Glancing at the icons, I instantly realized that somewhere inside there was a child.
Now joyful and happy, now darkness and bad weather.
Gradually sinking into a dull wrist.
So many unnecessary things. Words, I've made so many mistakes,
Or maybe I've just grown up and it's gnawing at me so much,
And I tore the pages of history from people, hiding myself with plywood,
I healed myself from anger, I sanded away the stains myself,
I wanted to stand up differently, and start over with a clean slate,
But piles of dead roses screamed at me to ignore them,
But it was hard to understand that nothing would start anew,
After all, black spots are present even on the sun,
Now I want to run after happiness, to return to that same world,
Where for me, bad weather and sadness were just a myth,
But for now I look at the sky, and a gentle whisper heeds us all,
That I traded happiness for ashes, I thought it was true,

Pages from a notebook, a notepad by the radiator,
I sit on an old bench, a long-forgotten alley,
Prayer services, those parks where I erased the road,
In In an old creaky stroller, curled into a cocoon

Pages from a notebook, a notepad by the radiator
I'm sitting on an old bench, in a long-forgotten alley
Prayer services, those parks where I used to erase the road
In an old creaky stroller, curled into a cocoon,

I'm a film cocoon, but film cotton
Gathering dust in the cellar where I share with myself
Moments fly by, years fly by
I'm already in my twenties, and just a moment ago I was still a child
The shadows didn't let me in where I was alone in the crowd
I've got it into my head, but where does time fly so quickly?
Mom, I'm so afraid of intermission. I'm sad, really.
But this is only the beginning of the dusty theater.
I'm happy in life, but with those close to me.
But art carries a burden that's accumulated over the years.
I'm at home in it, but they tell me to follow fashion.
But the soul won't sell itself, even for a penny or a ruble.