Текст песни cockroach - письмо

Standing in the telephone booth, looked at the umbrella,
Calls the phone-machine. This is me.
Mustic clouds are called you, leaving the horizon.
Again, marau paper twisted tobacco smoke.
How many letters are; and everything is unanswered. Where are you? Where am I?
I lost a wanderer in rubber boots.
Old ripped jeans Naja, I go to a rain raid.
To drop alive crumpled burns on the lips
From that kiss. Next in this universe.
The gray sky is sad on the umbrella hung. How your shadow is.
Gray, dirty sun in the lumen worth. How thought about you.
You have long died. I like the wounded beast I sing my song to the star.
Maybe so easier to languish with tired love. Lucky.
Maybe you will hear my warm call. "Return".
Today I broke your favorite cup. Svondo.
I clogged in the heart of porcelain droplets splashes ...