Текст песни Лиля Брик - Одиннадцать

Did I listen to the hands,
When they'll have: & quot; enough! & quot ;?
Dial these numbers eleven,
Froze on the edge of the bed.

And in the middle of the night
Wake you, surprise,
I do not ever call even with the excuse,
Even more so by the way.

And with a sweep will demand: & quot; where are you?! & Quot ;.
Like the evening just parted,
You proshepchesh:
& quot; I am married, my dear,
You were late
just a little & quot ;.

I will die. Immediately.
Immediately.
Sieve-heart
like a pimple,
squeezed.
Turn
and I see the head
That,
What a night I even walk.

Death cut us
And we survived.
It always will be our fault.
How so...
Got better.
Probably.
I do not understand nothing.