Текст песни Слова-паразиты - Капитан

Black smoke spits into the sky with old pipes, and, maneuvering again and again,
the little vessel is floating, you rule it - the captain of the cargo ship.
Let the wave rage, let the moon behind the stern illuminate the miles traveled.
You know what you have in the cargo - everyone you loved so thoughtlessly.

Dreams, hopes, and sorrows, joys full of barrels are stored there,
delicate letters and rude, stupid lines are stored there on shelves
everything that was stored for later is stored there - gossip, resentment, burden,
and salty tears boil overboard ...
I call you a cargo ship!

Your ship is not the one where the steward spills champagne famously,
where the orchestra with a cancan on each of the decks, for a moment, the hype does not subside.
And stingy, stupid booze in the port will answer the weeks of wandering,
your ship carries so much on board, but not at all like the Titanic.

Your ship doesn’t look like Victory, Misfortune, Nautilus, Flying Dutchman,
in bad weather and calm - he is always on the move, dangling about underwater reefs,
he walks along the seas - without looking back at all, not shying either furies or pariah,
maybe it would look like a biblical ark, if in it each of the creatures was a pair.

You swim, blowing fog behind you, but your relatives forgetting the shores,
you strive to the pier, where the darkness ends, only this regatta has ended.
All other barges, dropping cargo into the seas, have long overtaken your boat,
You are in a hurry to follow, ringing loudly in the market, howling at the open spaces of the signal.

You would like to see your solar circle, but only the sea moaned gloomily,
and the boys fled from the house south not in your dusty holds.
You looked at the sky, trying to figure out how to reach Atlantis and Lemuria,
but at night the planets go to the parade, and you, you see, turned the wrong way.

You counted the clock, nervously looking through binoculars, to your white-headed terra,
only again will the prize ranks - filibusters - be divided into a laurel wreath.
And it seemed more than once - somewhere far away, in the middle of the sea, hope looms,
but understand, never reach the shores.
In general, this: I am a sailor, you are a sailor.

Everyone is silent. It’s embarrassing for everyone to say that you ran aground, although you were on target.
And there is probably no way back now, even though there was an order - to reel bom-bramsels!
Well, and you, captain, stand on the stage, and your helm bends from the weight,
And the siren sings all his songs, and the pilot gets drunk in the cabin.

If you ask what drives you crazy - the lights of lighthouses and port whores.
Your boat is insignificant and small, they did not provide a lifeboat.
Rats are hastily trying to build a raft, it’s time for them to race away,
rats in fear, desperate look overboard, because the ship has already lost weight.

You turned the compass, and the other ships all rushed, not sparing the waterlines,
you wanted me to come back here again, but then I was on the melin,
and then I searched, rolled up my sleeves, in every city - this is not enough.
I asked about you. The bay answered me with a loud roar of the ninth rampart.

You are guiding your ship on purpose on the ice, all hoping to stumble upon an iceberg.
But I won’t give you to anyone else, how much you don’t try to leave.
Only at the bottom in silence the fish will sigh sadly ... In the ocean I will become a drop ...
The load will pull to the bottom one day
and the last to always leave the captain.