Текст песни Диана Коденко - Птичья боль

This bird pain me cries
Small, toy wars ...
There is something in flight something human -
Restless.

It was easy to easily
And we buried scattered.
And the wind then the western blow -
Cruel like mercy.
And windy thoughts of ghosts
Broke to us in the sky stuffy,
And we have acquired signs
Skills to think souls.
And people - lower tier -
Breathed with powerless rage:
Would fly to us, people, in the sky -
Oh, how much would we understand in life!

The peoples and the naschaya were confused
Rushed upwards, homelessness of the shades ...
There is something in flight something human -
Nearby.

Whether to go to bed? -
Yes, God did not give a pen.
Although we are celestialists,
What is our house - not sky?
And it became so ordinary
Premonition of disappearance
As if we all offended
And in the house forever locked.
As if it was so long ago
Tooch, like a knife, sharpened.
And so wanted from the house,
What wings are clouded ...

How fatigue sat on my shoulders -
I do not remember. Much forgotten.
There is something in flight something human -
Lonely ...

1999.