Вэд Эвэрест, Костя Jike - 15. Джаз Или Блюз
текст песни

But I do not sleep, I compose that
Jazz or blues your wounds screamed
Plus this sadness, lack of something
Feeling pulse, I feel freedom
But I do not sleep, I compose that
Jazz or blues your wounds screamed
Plus this sadness, lack of something
Feeling pulse, I feel freedom

Fingers slide past the buttons, a strip of letters
I painted a tree so much, you can build a hut
The skin is stretched over the bones, not handwriting, but the font
Garbage, frozen, got into a frozen, cooled down, and rhyme
As if it were not right from the debut
Smoking is not cool, but I'm making traction as if
I taste the world and the morning meets not only the sun
I leave the apartment, and the body shakes
My sad eyes, where did the joy go?
How to return the time back, where he lived without soaring
The train travels without stopping on the "old age" platform
And there you are no longer in uniform and crow lead by the nose
So far, the young has bought a lot for nafig
I shine for debt, to the house, then I dream of glory
Rain only under an umbrella, I read morality to everyone
The creatures are equal by itself. Yes, to forget me!
So that they don't know me, and I grew out under the dust
The most normal guy and Nalik is in your pocket
The schedule is a holy caring? Why? Do not worry, we’ll correct it!
Otherwise with such settings you will not move to Dali
I squeezed out from the floor 30 times, cheered up
Distracted from dirty thoughts, it became clean in my head
As in the room, in everything I see. He crumbled, ate
And now you breathe otherwise, another thing is a poet
Moreover, sticking or walking from the roof
From the one that "ZA" call and forgive
She is any crap, like her
Or you twist the bike all day

But I do not sleep, I compose that
Jazz or blues your wounds screamed
Plus this sadness, lack of something
Feeling pulse, I feel freedom
But I do not sleep, I compose that
Jazz or blues your wounds screamed
Plus this sadness, lack of something
Feeling pulse, I feel freedom

Fingers past the buttons gliding along the laptop
I wrote a lot of papers, long stripes of letters
In a quiet voice in the rupe of crowds drive in a circle
The corner of the Bermuda, and it is not so difficult for him to confuse
They lie to us! Let be! We will allow this
You are now in the know, the muse is a cure for sadness
Duck be with her, don't ralip, you will feel a pulse
Hold until you let go
This path is effective and in the middle of the night will raise
Bright stars, lights, because our heads are under them
One world in other words is not replaced
But I did not notice how the time was replaced
And now I do not sleep and compose that
Jazz or blues your wounds screamed
Behind closed curtains in a dark room rustle
At home for monitors, a distinct whisper is heard
The quiet motive is so rehearse
Speak to the microphone, throwing a gaze into the lens
The other ahead of the sudden he comes out alone
Words on the eyelids, especially when with a melody

But I do not sleep, I compose that
Jazz or blues your wounds screamed
Plus this sadness, lack of something
Feeling pulse, I feel freedom
But I do not sleep, I compose that
Jazz or blues your wounds screamed
Plus this sadness, lack of something
Feeling pulse, I feel freedom