Пост Мортем - Слишком Поздно
текст песни

I remember how my father and I traveled and there was not a single person whom he would not know. He
He said, told stories, always gave advice, but I do not remember that at least once we are with him
We talked to the present. A few years ago I came to his hospital, he was very, very
is ill. He did not even immediately understand that I was sitting nearby ...

The sounds of the hospital, the triumph of iron with concrete
The wards are empty and from the walls the spirit of sentences
Broken dreams, tears, losses of loved ones
Threats of fire, prayers, patients from patients
Stairs rubbed into the ovals of the foot
Echoes of groans, forgotten shadows
It seems to be empty here, but the blocks live in the past
What is it and not to call the good
Loof gazebos, a couple of tired shops
Here leisure on the day of the card, if you are on your feet
People rarely visit, more often there are no them at all
Only a car from the morgue permanent guest
A handful of still live eyes without color
No one knows if he will live before dawn
There is no ticket back, only foggy tomorrow
And think about life, about an unsuccessful start

Too late to make plans for tomorrow
Too late to drive loved ones in theaters
Too late to run from the inevitable
The other bunks are the same, the same beds ...

Too late to make plans for tomorrow
Too late to drive loved ones in theaters
Too late to run from the inevitable
The other bunks are the same, the same beds ...

Then he began to cry ... And through tears he looked at me and said ... "Talk to
me"...

The diagnosis was cruel, and the doctor is honest
Treatment is long, and the outcome in the end is known
(.......) Lonely day, in the beginning there was a word and it was wretched
Not bored, there are dozens in robes
Severe patients with a dropper in the wards
One seemed to run into the case for five minutes
Now they are not waiting for her back, because one breast
Here they cut on a living, irradiated, stuffed pills
Trying to cure these sick cells
As a Russian roulette, you will stay, or to the grave
You hang in, bring an infection, or sterility
Someone seemed to finally smile during the day
And at night the orderlies carried it under the sheet
This is how they live looking at a number of cheap reproductions
The bodies are changing to them, but the beds remain

Too late to make plans for tomorrow
Too late to drive loved ones in theaters
Too late to run from the inevitable
The other bunks are the same, the same beds ...

Too late to make plans for tomorrow
Too late to drive loved ones in theaters
Too late to run from the inevitable
The other bunks are the same, the same beds ...

I did not know where to start, I did not know at all ... but as soon as I started talking,
He closed his eyes and died ... Even without hearing a word ... That's it ... Son's bitch.