Текст песни Руру - 06

Little death and little autumn
to smithereens from touches and disconnected bones
To me sadness, happens, after you, to visit
and we begin to dig in the past
spoons stroking all this rot
not from the board, and from the longing the walls are sharp
and leaving in itself deep so that there is no access
Apple on the table, ripe beautiful, and from the inside the worms are crushed
about this condition late in the evening
I wish me joy to keep on forever
The pathetic fate of a person to be someone's thing