Текст песни Сергей Гандлевский - Всё громко тикает. Под спичечные марши...

wife

All ticking loudly. Under Match marches
The clothes lie on top of the bedding.
Well, well, no nonsense. But a sense of fear over
And durability of you, my soul.
On a chair in the ashtray smoldering cigarette butt,
And in the winter twilight twinkle two keys.
Here is death and there, doprygalsya, asshole?
Poles whirlwind and solid - torment Rhymer ...
Naked woman then gets out of bed
And over the head of a spacious hoodie
Wear slowly, and be without purpose
Residence idle, where the memory of the poor
Or really bad. Before a large separation
The practice requires a while to sit down,
She sits down and, without uttering a sound.
Fathers, teachers, this is - hell is!
In a transparent darkness will pass to the door,
On the threshold he glanced at the miserable bed,
And a strange dream finger on the dusty secretaire
Is written, leaving, but could not make out the words.

1994