Текст песни Один в Минусе - Исповедь

more and more I confuse garbage on the roads with corpses of pigeons
before bedtime drunk pray to God: do not kill, father, do not kill
I pass on the streets sleepy, which is listed in snow and pain
My pain. These smells. feelings. in the bar. Pew tequila. I'm walking salt.
I remember the rapid days of empty existence when I spread the room of desire and friends danced on them under the strange rhythms blues and jazz
Now, sitting on the floor, I remember. I'm bitterly.
Is it not enough?
And I don't want to live in these transitions warmed by dead light
Read on the walls of the female abuse of perverts.
Go to them for advice.
Dead iron on the streets.
Live iron buildings.
The smell of the entrance
I collect things. Suitcases. I consider moments. And waiting for departure.
Pustone station. only homeless and alcoholics with me
Stick your finger into my humpback back. We throw a lead in me it would be better to change the wine ....
Nowhere to go. Yes, and do not want to go. despondency prescribed to health
Neither the wind nor calls, nor mail, nor animal drunkenness will bring good news
I know for sure. that the end is the concept of relative. And the soul too
I'm going to bed. dirty. drunk. whisper: Save me, God.

Nikita