Klod Pollo - На грани
текст песни

As if on the verge, someone beckons with a finger
Move your feet under the clouds
Move your hands, move your lips
As if on the verge, someone is twisting words
As if drunk, like a confession to a lady
Which doesn’t matter at home or right in the temple
As if on the verge, someone beckons with a finger
Move your feet under the clouds
Move your hands, move your lips
As if on the verge, someone is twisting words
As if drunk, like a confession to a lady
Which doesn’t matter at home or right in the temple
As if on the verge, 7 tests
They cut the tissue under my eyes
Remaining in memory with the tears of others
We got down ourselves, even though we were friends with the brains
Or without them
Clinging to every verse with my teeth
Without understanding what yours means
Without understanding what yours means
In the circle of red-eyed people, which means mine
In a circle of colorful people, in worldly problems
Bong or waterman, spit or jar
Bekhter, pipette, glasses and hat
Apart from everything that ordinary people care about
Whitefish and flesh, Allah and God, faith and truth
Today and tomorrow, when breakfast is tastier on your feet
We pray in church, in a trip to the house
For the souls of the departed in a heavenly robe
On the verge, on the bark, but not the cotton wool
Everyone was there, but not all of us were hanging out in the ward
But each of us is on parade
Written in a glance
It won't take any effort to go the fuck away
Tell the crazy guy
As if on the verge, someone beckons with a finger
Move your feet under the clouds
Move your hands, move your lips
As if on the verge, someone is twisting words
As if drunk, like a confession to a lady
Which doesn’t matter at home or right in the temple
Fuck brain drain and all the fuss
I love only a dream and I love purity
Heterochromia in the eyes, not a step back
If the step is wrong, fuck at random
A big problem
Big gaps, lead arrows
Money is just an emblem
Under the layers of snow my soul was sick
What where When?
Light gas and water
When, where and what?
There's a storm brewing
Quietly foretells not what we want
Nudes under the sky - heavenly intimacy
Spirals in the eyes make you go
Through the growing noses of stupid Pinocchio
The heart is in quarantine, so we fly
But otherwise we won’t find what we want
Brothers up, brothers down
Joy and pain, parapet and cornice
The city as an age mechanism
Give a surprise where you can't see the light
Is that necessary? I doubt
Is she on the pipe? I'm going to
Are the brothers happy? I'm cleaning
Have the brothers left? I'm smiling
As if on the verge, someone beckons with a finger
Move your feet under the clouds
Move your hands, move your lips
As if on the verge, someone is twisting words
As if drunk, like a confession to a lady
Which doesn’t matter at home or right in the temple
As if on the verge, someone beckons with a finger
Move your feet under the clouds
Move your hands, move your lips
As if on the verge, someone is twisting words
As if drunk, like a confession to a lady
Which doesn’t matter at home or right in the temple
As if on the verge, someone beckons with a finger
Move your feet under the clouds
Move your hands, move your lips
As if on the verge, someone is twisting words
As if drunk, like a confession to a lady
Which doesn’t matter at home or right in the temple