Текст песни Поэт без усов - взгляд на две тысячи ярдов

Something will tell:
"The meaning is lost."

Blizzard.

Forty days already.

This is missing
Time will not cure.

Forty lashes
By a naked soul.

Friends...
In front of them is completely uncomfortable.

Consolations by cliche.

What the hell am I doing?

I’ll hide myself, as in childhood, in a cardboard box.

And I don’t need this your shoulder.

Not my stop.

Not my city.
Silent country.

Ash instead of snow.

It's a war
One man
With the sky.

Belief in religious nonsense.
If only there weren’t
Feelings that death is
The real result.

And I, too, will break through to the heavenly chamber.
Everything is different there,
There we forget everything cleanly.
And across a field full of summer flowers
Let's run like in a naive movie.

These are the days on which the stigma is.
And the stronger the wine
The stronger the wine
Eats away gut.

Something will tell:
"The meaning is lost."

I don’t care for a long time.

I don’t believe in anything at all.

I'm a dead tree
In the Garden of Eden.
I dream of waking up in hell.

But life is rushing fast.
I hope to find you again.
And bring back your warm sun.

I will pierce my heart with a twig.
I can’t handle it, this is nonsense.
To live choking in madness
Ignoring the ghosts of the past.

Something will tell:
"The meaning is lost."

Let that voice shut up.
May this noise go away forever.
Please, more ...

More

I'm already
I do not ask.