Текст песни Шmuль - Ожидания залы

Four dozen minutes
Expectations for a quiet room
Without much zeal in the morning.
Without much. Claims.

On a nearby seat - the lady -
The body in the shape of an hourglass.
Deafeningly throws on marble
Far-fetched statement bright sand.

I sculpt from it a pyramid,
I form nevychurny house-
In this room is not glued time.
Entropy and chaos all around.

On the floor - peel and cigarette butts.
And the sand. And walk wind
Retiring flute loudly.
Inspiration dies from his wounds.

And tracer past the minute,
Punching covers garments.
Four dozen. Inside.
Corrodes in an effort to breach.

I do not want anything. Fatal.
And in the ruins of a sand castle.
The silence and the poet - depressed,
Imprisoned in waiting rooms.