Текст песни Шесть спичек - Вифлеем

In the darkness, a cigarette butt on the asphalt is broken,
Flying sparks light up the dirty shoes.
I keep sparklers that do not burn
Do you want to burn? Try it.
Decay, hopelessness, ha!
Sartre about it wrote nothing
Another post-punk, in which the singer voice rooster,
Chant the melancholy dirty city.
"Something does not like it here? Suitcase, scum, the station!"
Do not nail in the coffin, but a stone in a field.
Boredom, green trees, helpless look.
I again ten years. I again without the right to vote, or rather non-howling.
All the same, seventy one step, to the apartment,
Likeness became a shooting gallery.
Do not hit exactly on target, it is not necessary.

One person told me about the parallels,
Like the beauty of straight lines moving nowhere.
And I kept thinking about the direction.
My relatives after the death of reserves of the city.
Hello Bethlehem. And if the star is a symbol of birth,
That symbol of life - eclipse.