Текст песни ОЛЕГ МИТЯЕВ - Художник

How hard is it to be an artist among the gray asphalt,
That black from rain, then froze and white,
Among the houses, the official word counter and unfamiliar persons
And snow strands of wires,
And snow strands of wires and wet painted eyelashes.

And every day in the bus, in the delirious excitement of past,
Solve puzzles on the glass frozen,
On the windows and on the memory of the truth and of someone's lying,
And mental Jam, and on the canvas with the name & quot; life & quot ;.

How hard is it to be an artist, do not sleep in the storm behind a wall,
A swim under the rain whisper of black creepy depth
Remember, as a noise storm, and even drops to survive -
And because you can not close your eyes and suddenly not be an artist.

1980