Текст песни ХеРуВим - Стихийное бедствие

Yesterday she just started to break out of the cocoon.
in search of the title,
hesitantly at first, with a share of fear.
thinking, and can still, in the sky-high giants
and there is nothing interesting about it? then maybe vain
tear the shackles that swaddled me for a metamorphosis?
comfortable in the dark alone, and, you know, like something familiar ..
here no one will ever ask these silly questions
how to continue to live, and there on my own.

longing and so sometimes comes to tea.
days, nights.
It happens,
brazenly bursts with wet strands, splattered all around.
the soul of the network takes effort on her like an anvil.
but still want to heat and wordlessly loved ones.

squeals of happiness fill every corner of guts,
cast your eyes over the horizon, that bundled secrets.
in the world to be a symbol and a representative of only the good,
therefore, I am thinking to herself whispered: & quot; take off, come! & quot;

with force opened wings stretched sweetly,
both from a long sleep.
Smiling, he soared high, basking in the moonlight.
and it seemed ant that surreptitiously watched from below,
if she did.
shines .. bated breath he watched her dancing wind.

all his relatives for a long time after working in an anthill.
and he, driven by a sense of incomprehensible even to himself,
I crawled to look at the starry sky every night,
although it knew that it would be a miracle there is unlikely.

It was the white-light wings,
calming confusion for a moment in the shower ant.
but the thought: & quot; Oh, if we were floating along .. & quot ;, -
swept consciousness violent avalanches.

he wanted her in the heights, to the heavens!
and to light touch even for a moment,
but it rose higher and there
not hear it (was) ant desires ..

He was flying, and he remained at the bottom,
silently admiring looks - quite selflessly,
but inside it was all natural disasters rampant.
I was raised a simple butterfly effect.

Part 2

City calm ants.
nakinet a sheet.
postelet cozy homeless trash.
one hobbling, dopet
a bottle of bitter hateful.
lazy hungry belly has the alarm.

And somewhere under the lights, considerably weakened,
beating a prisoner in chains creativity.
his name - so he comes on the same rake
each time going into the poetic forge.

he does not know why, but he just wants
to do something with their waste of loneliness,
He is not averse to become those who have prophesied
starry future, and by line
line writes,
long been offended by the whole world.
it is not important in Paris, it is important - if only,
to close could be close, closer.
and you and I are the same .. hear we are
well ..
Shower break his Horcruxes ..
though in the world of poetry - ordinary citizens ..
We have about a hundred years, no one will say,
they say, they performed at the Muse loud theft.

Rain was - now downpour problems
sanity flew with the birds,
Hell has long been only dust and ashes.
Sheva and not for damage greater ambitions.

and to strive for? Too much truth
After playing on the radio FM Mocha.
But once, remember, we are on an equal footing
just wrote, not for money, and the fans.

what our affliction, gentlemen poets?
why this happens, do not write poetry?
can in the head all the cheering subsided delusion,
that previously were not given a day pass
without rhyme, without these mental anguishes,
when even life - a solid crash test.
when you no reason, with his head covered
this spirit of freedom in the world of small capacity.

and Froddo not inform the volcano ring
he credits bride mortgages.
but what a disaster, it is not clear until the end,
If my poems name-calling someone rapping?