Lamia Morra - Сеть
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Где-то на другом конце страны
За краем твоей земли
Пальцы Его коснулись стекла
За окном горели Его корабли
И Он одинок как волчий вой
И уже безнадежно пьян
Он узник Сети и как живой
Смотрит в пустой экран
А где-то Она и крик навылет
Он ждет от Нее звонка
Белая птица разбила крылья
О грани Ее потолка
Открытых окон пустые рты
Не докричаться, не доглядеть
Она сожгла за собой мосты
Его уже не просили спеть
Она ждала от него звонка
А Он уходил на войну
Белый платочек и свет маяка
Она была у Сети в плену
Открытые копи старых ран
Еще один осиновый кол
По шрамам на венах Он ветеран
Ей нужен Сети укол
Но в этой Сети никто не свят
Пророков нет среди машин
Она тихо смеется, а Он распят
на пустых глазах отпечатки шин...
Somewhere on the other end of the country
Behind your land
His fingers touched the glass
From the window burned his ships
And he is alone like wolf
And already hopelessly drunk
It is a prisoner of the network and as a lively
Looks into a blank screen
And somewhere she and scream
He is waiting for her call
White bird broke the wings
About the face of her ceiling
Open windows empty mouths
Don't finish
She burned bridges
He was no longer asked to sing
She waited a call from him
And he went to war
White handkerchief and light light
She was at the network in captivity
Open copy of old wounds
One more aspen count
For scars on the veins he veteran
She needs an injection network
But in this network no one will holy
There are no prophets among cars
She quietly laughs, and he crucified
On the empty eyes of tire prints ...
Behind your land
His fingers touched the glass
From the window burned his ships
And he is alone like wolf
And already hopelessly drunk
It is a prisoner of the network and as a lively
Looks into a blank screen
And somewhere she and scream
He is waiting for her call
White bird broke the wings
About the face of her ceiling
Open windows empty mouths
Don't finish
She burned bridges
He was no longer asked to sing
She waited a call from him
And he went to war
White handkerchief and light light
She was at the network in captivity
Open copy of old wounds
One more aspen count
For scars on the veins he veteran
She needs an injection network
But in this network no one will holy
There are no prophets among cars
She quietly laughs, and he crucified
On the empty eyes of tire prints ...
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