Текст песни Дима Буток - Посвящается Е

In essence, every person,
Not understanding, looks at death
In the face,
Unlike those
Who knows who looks at them ...
End
Smacks every moment
Exposed fear - ourselves!
What is the fate of the second:
Squirrel dying on great distance,
To say to have time before arriving for the versts
About early, late, easy, voluntary fading,
Without noticing the local mumbling bustle.
What kind of minds have these gloomy vagrants?!
Well, why not live like everything, ok, slowly?!
Prefer to see every next lighthouse
Near which it is easy to crash into fragments.
Actually, these dislike probably
Revealed some rebus for themselves
The law, in connection with which troubles occur:
Introduction, session, intermission ... ship crash.
It happens - the poor fellow from the shooting is dug.
But this thing - climbs behind the shooting itself,
On rags,
Viciously twisted, boiling, bonded,
Burning in mouth with a favorite song "On the glass knife".