Смоки Мо - Герман и Патрик
текст песни

Where children put photos of their mothers, -
Herman tried to change the chronicle of days... But of course!
Making lyrical confusion higher up in the speakers, -
Scolded Patrick for half-eaten chickens.

The last one dreamed of a ring,
I dreamed of meeting Erik Moraless and Don King.
I dreamed of a championship belt...
At the same time, explosions were thundering somewhere, Herman penetrated the news:

Arafat, Sharon, fear, war, phobia...
Tyrant Fidel, Tony Montana, the mafia is in the ascendant.
"Porgy and the Demon", Jazz, Old Man Davis, a little bit of Rossi...
And now summer has turned into Autumn...

Poems about Cuba - in prose,
While still in the hospital, Patrick realized that his hair was falling out...
Who put the rose in my vase?
Who sent me these letters, stamps, portraits of Castro...

I hate red flowers with envelopes!
And suddenly everything froze, someone woke up...

Don't wake me up! Don't wake me up! Do not judge!
Better yet, don't say anything!

Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes... Echoes...

July was wet, the sun was hidden from the down.
The chambers of the doomed opened windows for spirits.
Someone was whining somehow... Shouting: “Patrick is dead!”
If you can, too, remove your grin...

Wait! Pascal died - yesterday morning he flew through the windows like a bullet!
"Take my word for it, doctor! Let go!"
Don’t listen to my family, I’m not sick!
Understand! Remember yourself at twenty-three! Fly...

“I’ll open my veins!” Anton shouted, begging on his knees.
Release! Father told me to bite my tongue!
The walls were silent... They killed Pascal, drove Patrick out of the world of the living,
From the world of the greedy, from the world of the fast - supported, but tenacious,
Those that are not even sold with a prescription.

Herman whispered something to Anton, asking him to cut his hair.
Like this? You’ll die anyway... And what is HIV?”
People kept phrases as sentences, sang serenades,
But the nurse’s lips did not move.

The doctor smoked, the father did not dare to lament.
"Your son ran away or flew away..."

Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes... Echoes...

Alone in the metropolis of dreams, half-dead primates,
In the intoxicating smell of roses, perfume
"Fantastic! This fucking world has forgotten me.
I ordered July to gain strength, soak him, fry him!”

Plucking up the impudence, questions flew into the sky:
“And how much does a dose of joy cost, huh?”

It must be difficult to be God, it is difficult to control sick spectators.
We saw doctors in the wards...
Bitch, hunger is made of smells,
Broken by those who abandoned Anton.

Having flown out of the windows, the Brothers quietly left the chambers.
And I had no choice but to
To be electrocuted is already as a spirit.
Somehow overcome fear and fly into the world of the living.

Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes through the corridors of the clinic.
Laughter from the ward for quiet psychos echoes... Echoes...