Бит - Очень мрачный
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Во всем мире нет подобного мне игрока,
Городская тоска слишком велика,
И нет по этим улицам проводника,
Не достичь материка, жизнь довольно коротка,
Смотреть на все свысока нет смысла,
Река довольно быстрая, и где же эта мистика,
Эгоистами стали сами, загребая под себя руками,
Веками так заведено, черно-белое кино,
Выход только через окно, так уж суждено.
И это не смешно, я здесь слабое звено,
Кто со мной заодно, что вообще нам здесь дано?
Сколько жертв будет еще пренесено?
Сколько будет за правду еще казнено?
Лично я не стремлюсь на эти верха
Там слишком много греха, там царит патриархат,
Слишком мрачный закат, слишком строгий формат,
И прилюбом раскладе ты окажешься виноват,
Не поможет тебе адвокат, только в руках автомат.
Сокрушат по любому, даже не лезь в то болото,
Не избежать там расхода, оставлю только фото,
Там где много народа, где моя верная пехота.
А за окном опять непогода и грустно от чего то.
Хотя я знаю отчего, но догадается ли тот,
Кто меня на это обрек, вернее та что читает мои текста
И знает строки про паруса и небеса,
Да я часто пронее писал, имя упоминать не стал,
Догадается сама.
Припев(х2)
Эти дома угнетают меня,
И нету более тепла,
Слезла вся бахрома,
Наполнились детдома,
Дворами бродит чума,
И не уходит от сюда зима.
Опять вспоминаются те, кто погиб на этой войне,
Кого рядом с нами нет, смерти не стоили тех побед,
За счет них пополнен бюджет, но это секрет.
Еще многое может поведать поэт, но сюжет,
Показывает что билет в один конец,
Выпадет из гнезда птенец, не сбежит беглец,
На что ты нас обрек творец?
Когда глупец стал умнее чем мудрец?
Я по жизни не боец, но для многих образец,
Охренел вконец, правда стоит денег.
На каждом ценник, не поможет священник,
Не встать с четверенек, не устаять на ступени,
Того пьедистала, добраться живым до финала,
Не потерять оригинала, не забыть начала.
Главное - чтоб она не отказала,
Главное - чтоб она не уезжала,
Главное - чтоб она не придавала,
Главное - чтоб мелодия звучала.
Ведь под нее сердце поэта замирало.
Ведь она сердце поэта украла.
Припев(х2)
Эти дома угнетают меня,
И нету более тепла,
Слезла вся бахрома,
Наполнились детдома,
Дворами бродит чума,
И не уходит зима.
There is no such player like me all over the world
The city longing is too great
And there are no guides along these streets,
Not to reach the mainland, life is quite short,
It makes no sense to look at everything down,
The river is quite fast, and where is this mysticism,
They became egoists themselves, raking their hands under themselves,
For centuries, black and white cinema has been started,
The exit is only through the window, so destined.
And this is not funny, I'm a weak link here,
Who is with me at the same time, what is given to us here?
How many victims will be more preceded?
How much will be executed for the truth?
Personally, I do not strive for these tops
There is too much sin there, Patriarchate reigns there,
Too gloomy sunset, too strict format,
And loving the layout, you will be to blame,
A lawyer will not help you, only in your hands an automatic.
They will be crushed for anyone, do not even go into that swamp,
Cannot be avoided there, I will leave only a photo,
Where there are a lot of people, where is my faithful infantry.
And outside the window, the bad weather is again and sad from something.
Although I know why, but whether he will guess
Who condemn me for this, or rather the one that reads my text
And knows the lines about sails and heaven,
Yes, I often wrote, did not mention the name,
He will guess herself.
Chorus (x2)
These houses depress me
And there is no more warmth,
All the fringe got off
The orphanages were filled,
The plague wanders around the courtyards
And winter does not leave here.
Again, those who died in this war are recalled,
Who was not near us, death did not cost those victories,
At the expense of them, the budget is replenished, but this is a secret.
A poet can tell a lot more, but the plot,
Shows that one -way ticket,
The chick will fall out of the nest, the fugitive will not run away,
What are you coming to us the creator?
When did the fool become smarter than the sage?
I am not a fighter in life, but for many a sample,
Fucking completely, though it costs money.
On each price tag, the priest will not help,
Do not get up from the fours, do not get on the steps,
That Pyedistal, get alive to the finals,
Do not lose the original, do not forget to start.
The main thing is that she does not refuse,
The main thing is that she does not leave,
The main thing is that she does not give,
The main thing is that the melody sounds.
After all, the poet’s heart freezed under her.
After all, she stole the heart of the poet.
Chorus (x2)
These houses depress me
And there is no more warmth,
All the fringe got off
The orphanages were filled,
The plague wanders around the courtyards
And winter does not leave.
The city longing is too great
And there are no guides along these streets,
Not to reach the mainland, life is quite short,
It makes no sense to look at everything down,
The river is quite fast, and where is this mysticism,
They became egoists themselves, raking their hands under themselves,
For centuries, black and white cinema has been started,
The exit is only through the window, so destined.
And this is not funny, I'm a weak link here,
Who is with me at the same time, what is given to us here?
How many victims will be more preceded?
How much will be executed for the truth?
Personally, I do not strive for these tops
There is too much sin there, Patriarchate reigns there,
Too gloomy sunset, too strict format,
And loving the layout, you will be to blame,
A lawyer will not help you, only in your hands an automatic.
They will be crushed for anyone, do not even go into that swamp,
Cannot be avoided there, I will leave only a photo,
Where there are a lot of people, where is my faithful infantry.
And outside the window, the bad weather is again and sad from something.
Although I know why, but whether he will guess
Who condemn me for this, or rather the one that reads my text
And knows the lines about sails and heaven,
Yes, I often wrote, did not mention the name,
He will guess herself.
Chorus (x2)
These houses depress me
And there is no more warmth,
All the fringe got off
The orphanages were filled,
The plague wanders around the courtyards
And winter does not leave here.
Again, those who died in this war are recalled,
Who was not near us, death did not cost those victories,
At the expense of them, the budget is replenished, but this is a secret.
A poet can tell a lot more, but the plot,
Shows that one -way ticket,
The chick will fall out of the nest, the fugitive will not run away,
What are you coming to us the creator?
When did the fool become smarter than the sage?
I am not a fighter in life, but for many a sample,
Fucking completely, though it costs money.
On each price tag, the priest will not help,
Do not get up from the fours, do not get on the steps,
That Pyedistal, get alive to the finals,
Do not lose the original, do not forget to start.
The main thing is that she does not refuse,
The main thing is that she does not leave,
The main thing is that she does not give,
The main thing is that the melody sounds.
After all, the poet’s heart freezed under her.
After all, she stole the heart of the poet.
Chorus (x2)
These houses depress me
And there is no more warmth,
All the fringe got off
The orphanages were filled,
The plague wanders around the courtyards
And winter does not leave.
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