Текст песни Паша Мескалин - Терять отсутствие свободы

Losing the lack of freedom,

Search a sad fate ...

We came out of a stupid fashion

Writing in verse their dreams.

Postcards washed wires

In the space ghost names.

Now they are going after us,

Prolazit this silly dream.

Take tired hands

For the soul.

And put in the fire.

Again uneven syllables ...

Again, some heart moan.

More precisely cry.

More precisely cry!

More precisely taste of love ...

I am again confused the foot,

When he wrote his poems.

All eaten rhyming words,

All lines disassemble columns

And I'm one

delirious

delirious

After you,

Ironic miscarriage crowd ...

I am hiding in the dirty alleys

From his own obsessions -

Pandora small caskets,

What is torn away from the people.

And I was left alone.

And I was left alone.

And I was left alone.

And I gave myself the words.

In such

bleak and empty

my

two thousand

eighth.