Текст песни макулатура - ножевое

in these snowdrifts I dig my letters to you
on weekends - they open at night
someone's blood, teeth and beer like snowdrops
dancing freaks in an arch at an electric factory
on these streets you can’t get lost as you want -
bumping into a new craft pub everywhere
your absence goes beyond your authority
as the head of a republic funded by the mercy of Allah
you are not in the whole world, and at every concrete step
sweatshirts bursting at punk concerts sweatshirts
I draw myself a bridge from our woven arms
it would be visible from anywhere in the city
I examined all the faces in the car - it's not you
but still imagine myself a heavy, fat guy
khinkali lover; he has potted flowers at home
on the windowsill; "hide behind me in case of terrorist attack"
books - like root crops in the market, without any signs
none of them will reduce the distance between sleep and reality
between your and my bed; and letters are pushed like at a train station
scared passengers leaving a ghost town
each for himself, and I look at them through a smile
I have nowhere to run, and in principle I would agree to stab
while my lips still smell of you

I rush like a train under my feet in this city
I'm a dog and I need to find at least one of your hair
like a bomb and drugs, dragged into an image
after which I go down to the bottom and get out in the sun

the snow is melting and the smells start to confuse me
in the evening, cars, like animals in the forest, wake up
watch carefully while waiting for you at the parking lot
every day in the metropolis the search for what cannot be described
I look at these faces, and on each of its imprint
how in the puddles the city left its distorted reflection
inspires fear, gives hope and then takes it away
life is measured by purchases and utility bills
people flee from this forest to their dilapidated huts
our meeting places will become my city map
grinning with rotten teeth, rejected and humiliated
failed to grab the victim, exchangers and pawnshops
slowly moving towards you, washing away my past like dirt
web of temporary residences and all these canteens
I was caught a hundred times by everyday vulgarity
but my story before you was just a workout
how in this hostile environment not to lose your smell
goods collected on credit tear their bags
I also need to type everything I need in a hurry
but as long as my fingers smell of you, I will not dissolve in this boredom
the beginning of your day will be my deadline
I went through these routes anticipating something intangible
I turn the face to the rays of your awakening, waiting
my poems are like the prey that the dog brings to the master

I rush like a train under the feet of this city
I'm a dog, enough hope for a look and commands
keep your books forgotten in the passage room
just live this day or grab your teeth in the throat