Текст песни Арчет - Про письма

I see a letter.
Lilac ink.
I remember running along the glossy platform.
I smiled if she called.
This smile is heard on the phone.

I invented decisive answers - even to rhetorical questions.
He even forgave smelly cigarettes,
and dodged the tip of the cigarettes.

He even left. The last, in general, is “even” -
I don’t remember seventy times a day,
all let go. In such a free sale.

Only here are the letters.
For some reason, I keep them.