13. Аля Кудряшева - Клин клином
текст песни

Who has never seen cranes
He never felt losses
Loss of leaves in the dusk of alleys,
Loss of sensation on the body
In the morning of the saved heat
Burners of trookratic kisses,
Since the spring of unwashed glass,
From home to the metro, then back,
That useful glue oozes from the sky,
Which glue the day to death.
He believes every patriarchal duck
Who has never seen cranes.

Let's go with me, I'll pay
For each minibus lived,
I know, I think. No, joking
But you understand, every joke
There is always what you want to say -
The worthy legacy of Krylov.
Who considered them - Kazan drove
And they turned along Sadovaya. Word
Remained in the metropolis, on the corner.
The ticket has turned into origami.
No, not a crane, just nervousness of the hands,
Let's go, go in circles
Well, just so as not to freeze in the wind.

Let's dive into the metaphor's depth,
We will be tied in the labyrinth of the allegories,
To avoid a cold between the lips
Already in contact lightly,
In the school, as if by chance.
In the crowd, at rush hour, accidentally.
I'm sorry, I don't know how to start again
And I avoid unnecessary endings.

I cry for exhalation twenty -seven rubles,
The failure of the doors, treacherously yawning.
Who has never seen cranes
He hardly waves in the morning, turning around
To the only clear window
In the kitchen, there, in a robe of a terry,
In trembling lighting monochrome,
Family faces flickered carefully.

I stand, looking for support in a backpack,
Like a hero in front of an epic stone,
Yes, we are worth a lot - and who is for whom,
With their priceless backpacks,
In a coat that all the arms are stored,
Preparing for all losses on the go.
Went right - lost his horse,
He went left - and yawned the bus.
And then worse - I lost a boat,
The project, work, the right judge.
But do the gingerbread or whip stand
These restless minutes.

Let's go, go with me,
We go to the Blue, Green bus,
I feel the smell of coffee with my back
Your gaze is so heavenly-visible,
The remnants of the night, a strange fate,
It is impossible as before - although it used to live like this,
Touching the lips at the edge of the forehead,
Where the vein shudders under the skin,

Let's go, I'm deprived of my memory
And the end is no longer around the day,
The trees die naked,
Without a savana, but burning in gold,
Let's go on the road more fun
Again a stop, God, albeit not ours.
Who has never seen cranes
look look. So he waves to someone.