Текст песни 43ai - Парадокс

We want a lot
Our affairs are not visible with a microscope.
We don't believe in God
But we believe in horoscopes.
New photo -
Media background instead of weather.
And someone without a smartphone
Among us is like Don Quixote.

The soul is not a target
Man is not a goal
The avenue does not lead to heaven
Inch - fathom
Depth - stranded
Infinity is the edge!

Is there love - guess
She can't
To find
In the slot of the wallet.
Ask,
find out
At the African child
With a Kalashnikov assault rifle.

Put up the walls!
Save up the good!
To fill up with cabbage -
What money
Will give you something
What I feel ?

Virgo holding a flower
But thorns on the stem
I wounded my brushes.
Poet for poetry
Cut the thorns
Bay leaves.

Like Shakespeare plays
From the slums
And city gateways -
In the best theaters in the world
Lives
the spirit of the common people.

What does life mean
Actually
Only the dead know.
But who needs
Their heavenly trills?
Fuck him.

-
The thicker the darkness
The brighter the light shines in her
And the more difficult is the question
The more precious is the answer.
And the main thing is to say only yes
Or just not.
The final line
As a result
Of the past years.
-

History is a body
On it with scars - marks -
Rocket craters.
The world is an empty chapel
The wind blew away the funeral
on worn parquet.
I would stick in the wreckage
Wings and Chassi
Like a parapet
To descendants
They knew
How greed stings
Through a hundred years.

I need:
Fresh air,
Rainbow reflections of puddles.
And better
Huge island
And rain instead of a shower.
But instead of
There is only concrete wilderness
Advertising poster
And hundreds of lost souls
In the cells of the entrance.

Somewhere in the fifth heaven
A bright spot
Star dew
Shines like a swan
Phantom
Guiding star.

What will happen next
Or was it yesterday -
It can be seen from above.
Over the old table
My pen tip
Leads there -
On sheets.

And here is the letter -
Like thunder
Out of the clear sky.
My mouthpiece -
Into the metronome
everyday running.
Rough
Tying the insides.
The latter is like an omega
The Greeks.
I will
Echoing winds in the subway
Touch objects.

-
The thicker the darkness
The brighter the light shines in her
And the more difficult is the question
The more precious is the answer.
And the main thing is to say only yes
Or just not.
The final line
As a result
Of the past years.
-