Текст песни Саша Прохоров - Паутиной Лаптевых

Web of the Laptev
knit your light dream ...
You and love, true, but somehow around the bush ...
I spit in the face to those who invented the off-season ..
And erase letters sharpened razor Occam ..
Pulls feet to the south, and memory - in the north.
The falsity on falsity hear laughter in your alienated.
And flying mountain ash on the bottom of the blue veranda,
Lisp soil: do not touch, they say, do not touch ..
August swollen legs as a sick old women ..
I lay in confused night pint.
I break ribs horrible hundred hands.
Sixty other, these edges will correct me soon.
Rolled her eyes and feel my bitter bread.
To poison my day a lively conversation with the birds.
You want to see how pretentious bleats lion ...
You suffer, my friend, but did not suffer those princes.
On nodes knapsacks its world-windbag Ruskin.
The head chirp, chirknet, will become isolated, burn out ..
I also prayed to heaven is a thief.
He waited, when the plague, from hell to expel cool ..
And there was a fig. It happened at all.
It was said to have died, while others read the news ..
Of course you love me, and keep yourself in their hands.
Of course, I was dead, but understand - not completely ...
24/8/13