Текст песни Баста - Поэт

I walked around the block a couple with their delusions
Wanted to be invisible
My eyes were blinded
The poet became a cynic
Cocteau feelings scratched
Paint faded
Poured his feet broken glass
Of the old clock gutted sand
Words of the poet perekoverkali
Freedom to replace large cell
Waiting for passion, like all kill
Hatred of sushneka thirsty
I wanted to live, but only zanogo
But the fate of the poet had long been spoiled
A couple with insomnia believed to infinity
Jumped up ran down the stairs
Left eternity in his poems
Time is like a fire all turned to dust
Fear of smoking, one by one
Greedy rods blood began to water
Ink and paper became unbearable
Muses opastylili, feelings cooled
The poet was bound hand and foot vows
But vryatli bleeding stop gags
Rip armor finally become vulnerable
Afford to be finally killed
From golden rings to break the chain to hell
The poet was tired of being a sniper, wanted to be a purpose
But this is why death was not affordable
For the death of people like him, the death took expensive
No one has seen the suffering of the poet
Shared stakes were ready to kill for a percentage
His accent was becoming less noticeable
Give me back my
Shouting, throwing coins
Written night died in the morning
Written in the morning it was disgusting
He remembered himself as he was paradise
Do not shield bald head, is not considered
At night, took out drafts
Voracious reading my old poems
By morning was forgotten restless sleep
Seen in dreams: mom, house, that he had killed, the one that went
He wanted to stay and live in your dreams
Searching for himself, but could not find
He wanted to run, but did not have the strength to go
Summer style kept the sun dropped
Poet in the drafts was looking for something important
Swaps the yellowed sheets
A sad smile, beautiful poetry
Let go a little heartache
Thank God, thank God
Tired, he slowly sank
Poet closed his eyes and fell asleep forever

Breathe so let later acquire meaning
Ask the poet does not believe in the power of numbers
Truth ink on paper store
The whole truth known only to drafts

Breathe so let later acquire meaning
Ask the poet does not believe in the power of numbers
Truth ink on paper store
The whole truth known only to drafts

Breathe so let later acquire meaning
Ask the poet does not believe in the power of numbers
Truth ink on paper store
The whole truth known only to drafts

Breathe so let later acquire meaning
Ask the poet does not believe in the power of numbers
Truth ink on paper store
The whole truth known only to drafts