Текст песни Вера Полозкова - Катя и другое

Katya plows for a week between the sleek women, to the reduced cheekbones. on Friday night Katya comes to the pub and sits on the bar stool. Katya asks for food and two shots of whiskey, fifty each. rolling blacker than a frying pan, and looking around like a living emery, holding his neck at the same time as if they were hanging on it.
a tall bartender with an earring knows his craft clearly and smiles at her slyly. at Katya's glass, syrup, and vodka, and a slice of lime, and Cointreau. does not get drunk; inside the wiring is short, a hole the size of the whole insides.
Katya remembers how cramped, funny and wild it is when you are loved by someone. there was a time, now, look, you are lonely, like a white bim. so lonely that there is no one to drink with, it's okay to talk about the future and the past. lonely with a terrible, offensive, childish - fatherly anger, an empty corner.
in a glass by katie tequila, syrup and fresh. there is a gap in the peritoneum with a coin. in fact, if you don’t want it, dear, don’t eat it. since you endure all this disgusting stupid noise, it means that you are still waiting for something. what do you want - the good news and climb up the tree?
Katya fancies herself Clint Eastwood as he is.
Katya squints and shrugs her shoulders in time, adequate, if not cheerful. rolling in an arc drunk, and may it be like that forever, kate garbage war - it, in general, is almost intact.
at Katya's house a bottle of rum, just in case, and in the lining of his coat there is some crazy hashish. you, Lord, if you don't strangle, you will make me laugh.
Katya's phone rings on the subway, jumps out of her hands, falls on her skirt. Katya sees that it is mom, but hears nothing at all, hangs up.
Katya pushes the door, the one where it says "exit to the city." the climate became coarse at night to her. the city is ripped up to the foam rubber, all yellow and white.
fireworks with firecrackers, cannonade; next to Katya, the aunt goes to the boa. Mom calls again, well, what does she want, "Ma, what do you want, huh?"
Katya even shudders involuntarily, as if someone hit the battery with force: “I broke my arm. It's too painful for me. please come as soon as possible. "
the crazy head grows cold. "I'll come right now, I'll take you myself." Rolling in eight seconds sober, she has no eyes.
Katya thinks - these are the right ones, dear. kate it's scary what the fracture is.
mom is sitting on the couch and holding ice on her hand, crying. Mom already does not get a tooth on a tooth. Katya rushes about the apartment, as if a whip is being brought over her. The ambulance rings the doorbell in twenty and five minutes. something pricks, it does not work, for the life of me. the heart beats in kata like a trapped sparrow.
at night in the Moscow trauma all prosperity and peace. a guy with a broken nose, and a chauffeur with a twisted leg. a heavy one was brought, a fight in a bar, five knives. along each wall there are still a couple of dead, but alive.
gloomy nurses walk, from the darkness and back into the darkness. rags, brown with blood, crumpled in the corner.
a silent Tajik drives a dirty mop, a man lies on a gurney, dreams. mom cries in pain and wails.
a loose bull in shorts alone, formidable as a commander, bursts from the operating room into the corridor. sits on the bench, and blood pours from him like sweat in July. Kolyana asks his friend to call Yulia.
otherwise it will not be sewn up.
that's a fucking idiot.
everyone pulls him back, and he throws them away, infection. the doctor says - what shall I do, he is three times healthier than me. around him the orderlies and doctors loom.
mom is crying.
thick all cut out like a sieve. mom sobs "why should I do this, why". I had to take my mother to the cyto. come running, nod, run away again.
Katya wants to sleep.
a swarthy oriental boy, cast, handsome, bandaged at the shoulder. the hand cradles like a son, and someone's drunk woman jumps like locusts.
Katya sits in a bag on the couch, fingers tapping on her jacket.
by five in the morning, a sleepy aibolit puts on splints, draws a certificate and gives valuable instructions. mom stops crying. plaster cast right up to the shoulder and a large one on the other arm. mom looks like a fucking action movie.
Katya is driving home in a taxi, her jaws clenched, creaking. she does not feel sorry for her mother, nor the fat man, nor herself.
“I'm a tired robot, a leaky tank. you have to be a hero, and I'm a weakling. my voice sat down, my fur was knocked out, and I don't want to be stronger than everyone else. not a fighter, not equipped with claws. I'm a simple woman, no one