Текст песни Приход Святого Егорки - Note Mortem

More minute and forgotten all the troubles, grievances
I'll turn back to your eyes to the sky and see
World's brother deceived us, and more will only hurt more
Meanly tenderness, sharps,
The inevitability.
As in the plays of Eugene - everything has been turned upside-bottomed
Tell us where is it - the love that becomes wine
Guilty only that beyond the expected peace and quiet
Here it is - the thorns in which we otpoyut

And MD Lecter heal all wounds
Watch the speech - juice live hidden from the dead wind
And the memory of the dead - the hypocrisy, resentment that lived
And felt the chain of words and tendons

And survived surgery, and sick to death
The Persians in the hands of the cherubs - just lose body
Any overnight in an indifferent anthill
Panin, Gorshenev, Balabanov and Oleynikov
Nobody is eternal. Even such a thing as a Thatcher.
Experiences guzzle liver.
Wives harness candles.
We have not lived up to the wives. Brides us cry hem.
Our flight will leave with rain cotton candy, dark water.

And we will be positioned on the eternal bed of groomed
Hands native covered with pain and shudder
Now they are one. In their memory, we are perfect
And we mourn with the victims of our bedrooms

The sun rises in zenith. Vzrostut in stills vale granites.
Each blames himself, sure - were limits.
But all exhausted. And the flourish our last intramural
An hour evening reflected in the shoots and buds.
Invertebrates suffering forced to look for them
The cause in people, posts, words, actions, notebooks
Not finding in the dirty linen, the fact that the right under the nose
More five years will be like boobies Frost
There will come the autumn. They will then unit
And we will not be able to see in those who dare to be born
We do not just arrive. And the truth of the Buddha and the Christ
She was putting on a restart.
Everything is from scratch.

22/11 / 2013-29.03.2015