Текст песни Бутылка Клейна - Отрыжка Серебряного века

The sea breaks the surf tongue to read these stones,
Half sunk into the oily sand.
The salt eats away at the word, but the meaning is tightly locked like shutters.
The translator's syringe will cure everything that hurts between the lines.

Summer stumbled and moved back, as if neither the bottom nor the tire.
The sun shines treacherously in your eyes, like a brutal Chekist.
Hello Silver Age or wolf! Am I your burp? ..
Couples, inhaling streaming smoke, dance a tantric twist ...