1 verse:
20 12 waves his hand goodbye.
Parting. The birds are ready in advance
But I'm not ready somehow
Feeling - it’s not clear - either banana or cotton wool.
Can’t bring back what was in the past,
He did it in the past or should have done ...
Someone, but never did,
While walking forward, breaking down these walls,
With a stupid motto: "I am walking through thorns to the stars,"
When the soul is stone, and the path is loss and intrigue.
And let not just believe that it all ended even
You will not try to change, just watching your eyes,
You’ll light while standing somewhere and I’ll pass by
When I see a cigarette, I smoke too.
I'm sorry, but I can’t see from here,
What is there? As usual ... Pall Mall blue is short
Chorus:
I would write poetry, but for some reason I write songs.
And I would eat it all, but it’s not climbing into me anymore!
I would become a star, but, alas, I am mediocrity!
I will look better if the mirror is cracked!
Verse 2:
20 12 brought a lot and left:
New Mike, Just So, Audio Apocalypse,
Wildboom! And we all the same, all the same look for us
Amid the bumps and bruises, we are in the quiet of a cave.
In the hallway there’s a closet, there are skeletons in it,
There are cockroaches in the boshka, ashes underfoot,
The nose completely stuck the smell of tobacco and parquet.
So summer flows away. We are between the lines somewhere.
There are visors caps, here the walls are smoked.
They saw a lot that you did not see.
Not just like that - it’s from distrust,
What is not from mental dullness is from poverty.
Already hiding even from the closest ones,
Where are we and how at night, not trusting ourselves.
Running, walking through the mazes of buildings
On the backs with backpacks, hastily in search of knowledge ...
