Why are you so sure that living is great?
Closed corridors under the degree of the room,
people with boxes on their shoulders stole youth
in the vestibules of trains.
I was stolen into someone else's bed and whispered: "suffer"
the manifestation of love in this closed circuit is equal to the rate of change in the flow of pain through the surface of the skin,
and too low a temperature in my room will knock books off the shelves on the floor,
batteries will burst, everything around will be filled with cold water,
and I will never be alive again.
In second-class carriages, looking into the eyes of the interlocutor,
the wind made piercing screams through the holes in my windows,
it's so cold in here.
Air is sucked out of the room
people in spacesuits with black eyes.
In a vacuum, my space moved into your consciousness to find salvation.
Do not let me dry on your blade on Sunday with pulses of blood circulation.
From unwillingness to get up early, it is better not to go to bed at all,
having smoked cigarettes without a filter, choked on the smoke,
living in the room.
The vents in your dormitory are clamped in a vice.
I'd jump out of the bus on my way back
tomorrow I won't be able to reach her again:
broken legs, I'm cold.
Your room temperature is like a refrigerator in a grocery store
like the gaze of a security guard at the exit.
And you're ready to run, but you've taken too much on yourself.
Fall, you'll never get up.
I never get up
don't smile at the trees in this world.
Your mother got cancer, I'm in the loop, I see Yamaku.
Park smiles at me, hot miso soup
but at the sight of everything I am already a corpse.
"Let's go without Abuya Ko" - I asked my friends.
The warmth of your room, a smile wider than all the earth, I can never
come back, I want to forget.
"You are not my friend anymore."
And Khalturina Street.
"You are my best friend".
I turn on the stream, my hands hurt, I cry, I have already lost everything, but you will never lose me.
This is a great delight - such a small text, taking on a flying meaning, the spirit of sakura in each of us, is found on both of us.
The temperature of your room is like refrigerators in grocery stores, like the gaze of a security guard at the exit.
And you're ready to run, but you've taken too much on yourself.
Fall, you'll never get up.
The temperature of your room is like refrigerators in grocery stores, like the gaze of a security guard at the exit.
And you are ready to run, but too much on yourself .. ahh .. (in pussy.)
