Текст песни ChipaChip - МБМ

Slow minutes running into the depths of your eyes.
Slowly fall down like yellow leaves,
Again, waiting for ridiculous freeze frames.
The minutes pass slowly, it seems like a century has already passed,
But it pulls you back, your hands are not there when you are near;
When your head and surroundings are completely a mess.

Along the gray streets of a sleepy province...
Anyway, in principle, everyone here is such a visionary.
The autumn rain broke into grains on the hood,
Until you and I have become simply free, like birds.

In the glare of neon to the melody of export to mono,
All of our youth is suddenly slipping away somewhere.
The hardest thing is to understand what you wanted differently:
Come out of the coma and leave that city forever.

And forget all this talk.
If we also take into account that they are not only about the sea.
The soul of memories is tormented by a moth under Moby.
Most often in a chill, without any requests spoken out loud for help.

Melancholic Saturday morning.
New photos. Side view. You look just as cute.
Car headlights at night, running light along the walls.
There is cold in the bed, and the eternal meaning here is your question: “Where is he?”

Slow minutes running into the depths of your eyes.
Slowly fall down like yellow leaves,
Again, waiting for ridiculous freeze frames.
The minutes pass slowly, it seems like a century has already passed,
But it pulls you back, your hands are not there when you are near;
When your head and surroundings are completely a mess.

Who settled in your heart, taking our love?
I froze again, remember how your hands warmed me.
And I didn’t notice then the movement of the hands on time,
But deep down, I knew that our “We” is not eternal!

And hopes burned without having time to find birth,
But in life, I probably fell in love with you too much.
While the area fell silent towards the night, I walked home in white Nikes -
I alone saw off the train leaving without us.

Somewhere in the distance, lanterns are burning so playfully.
The streets remember where you and I walked along them together.
And now, apparently, the credits have come in our hearts;
And I would like to return you, but you blocked the way for me.

On a rainy autumn I greet a cold dawn.
You were in a dream again, but we are no longer in reality.
All that was there - remembers the photo, which is hidden from everyone;
And you threw our feelings into the farthest compartment!

Slow minutes running into the depths of your eyes.
Slowly fall down like yellow leaves,
Again, waiting for ridiculous freeze frames.
The minutes pass slowly, it seems like a century has already passed,
But it pulls you back, your hands are not there when you are near;
When your head and surroundings are completely a mess.

Thin arms are speckled. The question is still the same: “With whom are you not mine?”
Forgotten words, but not forgotten minutes.
And there, in the clubs, there are fools: lipsticks, lips.
There are them in a circle! We sleep, but we are not jealous. Stupid!

Without your eyes here, searching for or touching with your gaze.
Leave the concepts for them - cook them for breakfast!
And I could take the world with one hand if I knew that
The other one won't let go!

He begged and asked for mercy with a new promise.
But in response, only tears convey boring sex goodbye.
Honestly, I miss every one of them
But in the best case, everything works out on regular calls.

Minutes tick by slowly. Advice from stupid friends.
Envious glances that pull like an anchor
But it’s a pity, not back into the arms -
Smoke fell on the snow...

Slow minutes running into the depths of your eyes.
Slowly fall down like yellow leaves,
Again, waiting for ridiculous freeze frames.
The minutes pass slowly, it seems like a century has already passed,
But it pulls you back, your hands are not there when you are near;
When your head and surroundings are completely a mess.