kommunikaция - послесловие
текст песни

My poems are a creak of emotional swing
On the playground of the subconscious in which children play -
sad memory, happy expectations and questions "Why?"
But for some reason, parents do not let the answers go there.
If you ask, I can’t explain what these songs about.
I can’t explain why these children sometimes cry.
Sometimes they just feel sad to know what the pension will be.
Loneliness in the gray “Khrushchevka” will turn into a lost match.
I am so unpleasant to realize that I play the main role -
In the film about some unsuccessful and strange asshole.
Although no, it's nice. After all, the role is the main one, Kohl.
And so you need to live under the cake for a short, in high.

Time runs. Cold heats up, cools hot.
Do not forget to fuck your thoughts - this is fashionable.
For those who do not believe in miracles, they really do not happen.
And only lonely can consider itself free here.
Time goes on, and possibly something good.
Cigarettes end, money ends on the phone.
You listened to an ardent album, about "elbows" and black cats,
About the love of the guy who said this in the microphone.
As a second explodes a new day, as a reality - a dream.
As a meeting of their eyes, explodes with life together.
Once you commit, this unnecessary “jihad”, not no.
We will look at our sunset, next to the "waiting" standing on the stairs.
Hello to you, I call, but you will not hear.
People seem superfluous, only while they are still nearby.
Our songs become louder, our truth becomes quieter.
We will fall asleep, and winter will understand - the world will conquer snowfall.
Everyone is controlled by the experimenter in a white coat.
Once he will say "enough" and fly large missiles.
Then Google Company robots will be thoughtfully finished
And register on "Google +" those who survived the end of the world.

...

Perhaps it will be right. Perhaps it will be true.
Except for the fact that I love her more than life.
Nothing goes according to plan and if you move systematically -
then you lose the very essence, and floors fall on top.
There are beautiful cities, even the system of working quarters.
There are beautiful people, so unnecessarily spoil themselves.
I am infinitely a lot to me, I am infinitely few of you.
I again realized all this and is extremely afraid to lose.

The world is the result of us - you and me.
Please recognize each other in close vehicles of trains.
If there is the best side, then try to change into it,
At least for the reason that they will soon press the "stop".
Probably, "only ash knows what it means to burn to the body."
We read French pilots and mathematicians from Britain.
We are trying to coffee, saying "was, not" -
Instead of all thought out plans, for a hundred percent hit.

...

Maybe it’s really better, this city is a glass concrete.
Against the background of a bright dawn, leaving the polar night.
Motrages are taken to nothing, but it seems to us as if to that
That will love you stronger than all together.
Hopelessness in the eyes of passengers of these tight trolleybuses.
Graffiti walls, crossings, TPP pipes, and taps of cranes.
Not freezing the port, but your ships will not fit
Nowhere, except for folders with the vultures "late/ early."

I should definitely understand me, those who really love.
The rest is probably to do here, by and large.
In the end, a weak heart will stand up much more often to us.
And his last blow, like the Universe, will be eternal.
You would not understand what to store because you did not lose.
We will carry so carefully, that random set of huyni,
What you put in yourself so far, played in the yard with a child.
If you are drowning in yourself, then please do not Tony.
I wanted to say "thank you." I wanted to say "sorry".
And not the fact that someone needs, that I said all this.
My songs are not bangs now, my songs are not a style now.
Friend, I just write poetry if you want to call a poet.