Текст песни Константин Потапов - От первой женщины уходят как от мамы

They leave the first woman like a mother:
holding up his nose proudly, in tears, with an empty pocket,
to a friend with a bed, crying to him with vodka,
that there is nothing more beautiful than without a dress,
that bitch, and then woke up on Saturday,
like a fish the air with its mouth, swallowing the fumes of freedom,
you look at the ceiling when you find yourself in bed
like a wolf that pulled its side, that was shot
through a ragged wheeze, and every breath is sharper.
Only time in an even rhythm will sew the arrows with a needle
this shot at the pale scar whose edge now gapes,
until you can yourself, calmly and yawning,
tell your case to some acquaintances,
remembering the mouth, eyes and the layout of the rooms.