Текст песни Каин Л. - Постовой

He is here - stubbornly, as if on the post,
Itself inanimate natural, but alive
Favorite, creaky, old chair,
Over the last century, spent with knife;

In his dreams, he was a cape, then Yal,
That was fought with a storm, then lay like a stone.
On him today you were standing for a long time,
And nervously pushed his legs.

Cain L., 2012