панк фракция запорожских распиздяев нищеебов - опавшие листья
текст песни

I am waiting for change as Victor Tsoi in the distant eight will be nine
shaking tobacco on a piece of an old newspaper with notes on terrorists
in France
Remembering how his fingers piled up in you
and then went to make you your coffee without sugar
We never went out of town with you
did not put a tree and did not see the sea together
Now your friends hug you, and I'm a sleeping area
I cross the road and wait for a blow to the glass
I am surrounding your image with lines of unwritten poems
I score the wall with nails, my head spam and dreams of paradise
Alan Moore says you should not play if you know what you lose
but I still hope to click on the restart and start it again
But all my letters fall to the floor like Rozanov's fallen leaves
All my decommissioned notebooks, loneliness and torn jacket -
These are my fear and longing in the city of metallurgists
And while rich people continue to eat animal corpses for lunch
This city and all its inhabitants poison the pipes of factories
last year's snow is melting where Lenin used to stand
I dream of you, like Gabber about the coolest rubbish on the rave

etc.
I throw like coal all letters into the fire
I buy a ticket for the last money
And while people devour the wagon
I have been worried about thousands of years

when the presidents will die and the fashion will change
We will meet again - it doesn’t matter or you
The first word will say -
Then the factories will explode
And in Zaporozhye, bridges will be completed (x2)

At dawn the city is empty, it fell silent
No people
Nine -story buildings are grinning like teeth in the sun
Waiting for a tram, anticipating the route to the new world
But longing for you and attachment is still holding the ass!
I remember all our days spent together in bed
When
No need to go somewhere, did not need money
Fingers trembling with awkwardness and light curls whose things are things
No better in the world / my heart is broken
My workplace is more like a warm booth in which
I am waiting for a faithful dog, but still hiding from your cold
In speed time, life breaks off the souls of our bright memories
Their wind brings and
They die
And do not put in a heap for anything
Like "fallen leaves" Rozanov
Instead cry in a cold bed
Or rest on the way home
From gopniks / dissolve headlong in the blanket / in the morning
Yielding to a herd instinct to fucked to work

When the moment comes
And I will stop working - time will stop
And you will not tell me not
We will sit with you on the last trolleybus
Having taken hope from Moscow to meet the dawn