Текст песни Алексей Ивакин - 2. Поисковый синдром

Long known psychologist and psychiatrist post-war syndrome . Returns from the war fighter .
  And he starts to drink .
  Because no one can explain - what is it , when you collect other pieces in a bucket .
  Because you are alive - but he did not .
  And you can not look people in the eye , you are struggling want to go back there - in death, hatred , fear .
  In life.
  Because here - a weak semblance of life . Shadows around . Fake shadows.
  And that night the girl at hand , desperately trying to get you back to the 'real ' world - the same shade.
  You will forever remain there.
  Strange, but for search engines is the same syndrome .
  I can not watch movies without tears about the war. I can not hear war songs . I can not read about the war. I can not talk about it - take my all for jokes and Hochma . Heart starts to hurt . I do not want to fight .
  But I watch these movies , I sing these songs , I read these books .
  And now I write these stories.
  Because I'm going back there again and again .
  Every day. Every night.
  Today dreamed of - as I lay down under a tank with a grenade . This is not my dream.
  I - book boy . I grew up in the seventies and eighties.
  We did not know war. We do not know the word ' Afghan ' .
  The war was cine and book .
  We grew up and fell in Chechnya. My friend came back gray . It is from him that I learned that the worst thing in the war - a mortar attack .
  But I was not at war !
  'Search' - this is not war ! This memory of the war !
  We sing songs , drink vodka , rzhem over each other and throw into the fire patronchiki .
  Why did I dream the dreams of others ?
  I saw tanks in museums and in the movies .
  Had a dream - I say goodbye to some girl in a black room , but for a night glass - strip lights. And I know that we will never meet again. She would be killed at the front. And I, too, would be killed.
  Wake up from what I try to scream but can not. Only mychu . I get up , slap barefoot in the kitchen . Put the kettle. And drink vodka . Then eagerly smoke in the toilet. And also eagerly read the memoirs of our veterans . ' I fought Panzerwaffe ...'
  But I did not fight ! Where such dreams?
  Search syndrome ...
  After his first watches I arrived at the student turslet . And - I swear! - I did not understand , how could so simply sit around the campfire and sing happy songs ? They lie there and wait ! Drunk , so that threw a grenade into the fire .
  Do not be alarmed . She was without a fuse . Pineapple . With tolite true. Absolutely safe entertainment. Tol warming , melting , boiling , begins to burn . Of holes begins to escape the flames , as of a rocket nozzle . Buzzing ! Scary buzzing ! Students run away in the bushes . I drunkenly rzhu .
  Two grenades - vosmilitrovy pot boil for five minutes. If RG - about five necessary. However, the water covered the burnt dark plenochkoy tola ...
  And then I drank some more and fell unconscious .
  Faded pineapple someone steal .
  And one of our idiot , somehow threw a grenade into the empty box cars. Only for the fact that the carrier money with him began to demand for travel .
  Cops then came to the hostel , organized searches . Found nothing. By that time , we have everything you can bahnul .
  Search syndrome ...
  I do not know - what it is.
  I can only describe it .
  It's when you visit after leaving Poklonnaya Mountain in the bushes , sit down on his haunches and begin to howl like a dog through her tears.
  This is when, after accidentally heard German speech go to the nearest stall and buy any alcohol-containing liquid , if only stronger.
  This is when you can not play for the Germans in computer games , because you can not kill her .
  This is when on June 22 in four in the morning you go with two cigarettes at the Eternal Flame .
  I know how to get rid of it .
  Do not ride on the watch.
  I do not want to get rid of ...