Булёк - Фотографии
текст песни

The poet sits again, smokes a cigarette. An attempt to get on the Internet, but there is no signal.
As there is no light in the exhausted soul of the poet. And only a couple of lines of the song for a fucked one.
A glass of tea is nearby, as usual with lemon. The eyes are tired, the T -shirt is black.
Time later, and sets a little sleep. But he is somewhere far away from the life of the source.
He is not alone sometimes likes to be alone, scrolling in his head the plots of old paintings.
Remembering how he tried to change someone's biography, he looks again these photos ...

A moment and this moment is already eternal.
Our life is like a flash, like a bright light.
Scraps of memory, pieces of someone's biography.
Life rushes, photos remain.

Photos remain, and everything is as before. All the same life, all the same modest hopes.
Trying to change something is probably stupid ... "After all, everything is fine and so" quietly whisper lips.
Our whole life, is it really nothing? Leaving everything as it is of course easiest.
And there is no strength to change and there is no desire. Memories surged again ...

Life rushes, and the photo remains. In old pictures, someone is again remembered.
To break into a stormy whirlwind into someone else's life ... Poet, you at least deal with yours.
After all, you can sculpt it as you want, and not sit again in the empty thoughts of the night.
All this is very sad and the soul corrodes. But instead of a note of sadness, you listen to your heart.
And to remember the remnants of bad negatives, does not add either joy or positive.
A sad motive with a sad recitative will again remind you of what was once.
But it has already been, but how much more will it be? We must live for the full weekend, all weekdays,
So that there is life in a bright frame, so that there is strength until your photo is on the grave ...
The night inspired thoughts to our poet, in the soul of the poet a weak light dawn.
Set up the focus, white balance ... to breathe deeper, take care of the nerves.
Collect the will in a fist, find a good angle. Smile, even if you want to cry.
Against the backdrop of a bright landscape, live in full force, to appreciate the moments that are so beautiful ...
Skureen cigarettes, a laptop went out. Tea will finish for a long time, the night light has gone.
Well, the light in the poet’s soul only flared up. "Everything will be cool!" - He confessed to himself.
There were still shots on the photographic of fate, the poet smiled from a simple such truth ...
Tomorrow is a new day, as a good photo. Live for a reason, live for something ...

A moment and this moment is already eternal.
Our life is like a flash, like a bright light.
Scraps of memory, pieces of someone's biography.
Life rushes, photos remain.

Our life is just photos.

Bubilek. Two round eleven. Zmusic.