Тим Скоренко - Парфюмер
текст песни

Clouds smell of eastern wind,
The cooled ash smells like a fire,
A hard hand smells of iron,
A narrow hole smells of fox.

And the stones smell of morning dew
And those who have stepped over them more than once,
And now I'm walking on them barefoot
And the mountain path smells of death.

And the sky smells like a sunlight
And the sun smells like light and warmth,
But the right shoulder smells of blood,
Someone smells of claws around the corner.

But do not forget-somewhere the city awaits me,
White dust of marble lions on the paws.
I will live, I will get, and soon
I will collect, I will save your smell ...

The stone of the yellow walls smells of work,
The guard smells at the gate,
Hundreds of sweaty bodies smell of motion
And a stormy city cycle.

And the roofs smell like a cry of the crow,
And the pavements are the horseshoes.
The fragrance is fed and drunk,
I will smell the gathering gods.

I smell the stormy areas,
I feel the smell of straps of hardware
I feel the humid smell of horses
And the white smell of a crawling moon.

Only one smell always beckons like that
That I can’t help but run after.
It seems that the world is in my torn pocket,
If the smell of love awaits me somewhere.

Maria smells of the morning rugue.
Brungild smells of cold and ice.
Suzanne smells of passion and game.
Adele is a Paris stone bridge.

Rebekah - like golden bread.
Elena is like an apple garden.
Juliet from the constellation Korolev -
Like a peach ripe on the scales.

Freedom smells like female beauty.
Victory smells of the valor of men.
And I do not smell anything. I am empty:
Direct me, please, and teach me ...

Tomorrow will come again the time of wandering,
I'm leaving, breathing in the smells of herbs.
Only she will be with me without melting, -
First love, a thin bottle of spirits ...