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текст песни

The last days of winter is ahead
mockery, spit
From the deepest
communal apartments
Without heating
I exhausted himself as a photographer, poet and as a person
There is only my own death between me and the grave
so just go crazy with hunger
attack the walls and there are wallpaper
Do not give out emotions on bouts of pain
memories
suddenly
as if they slashed a knife down the throat
Fresh wind from the old garden
Summer in the evening in the stake
Dreamers, like you, guard the dull light of the moon
and smells, the main thing is the smell of night
stubborn on a nut, your body is his spine
Embossed gray branches keep the body of gangrene
Yes, they are also the jesters of Bethlehem.

This is not a joke, though it is close to horror
Without raising the eye
You will see a trap for them

the tongue does not move -
"I will be yours"
Only complete isolation will be cleansed of you
in the suburbs between forest and rails
circle on repeat with one single song

Here you are, and stories about dreams
Leave until the best days
In the next room, neighbors
who moved to zeros masturbate on a snuff
Rooms - kaleidoscopes
Inside, they were widened into rotten veins
With only one request -
Call the birds home!

We are so straightforward in the square of the globe
Aesopov tongue is cut off and second -play
There is negative prosperity here
There are only fatigue in the price lists

summer snowfalls
Kiss cold quagmires
Touched time to touch
Do not be afraid everything will come, you will still take you
lump is litter, honesty - vintage
caused by talcum
Yes, and really
you
to me
who?