Singer: 25/17

Small on the street by himself, as the plantain,
He is not afraid of anyone, because he has a knife
It sick of pies, he hates poetry,
A priest with whom he drank, and forgave him his sins.

Draws a strip of salt on her cheeks
Ruffled the hair the wind in the clouds,
Birds sing, angels with them
Someday we'll be different.

That does not rock the boat, it is necessary to erase the memory.
Now all is stable, light the flame.

The cub outgrowth wolf.
And will tear the dogs.
He understands the word "pain".
Does not know the word "love."
It's not Mowgli, you look at the coals.
This is for the angels he burned signal lights.

My fortress will eventually become rock solid,
My fortress - body under my clothes. My castle - faith, love and hope. My castle will collapse if the Foundation crack.

Let them whistle back and pulling the shirt,
And the burden is very heavy and hard to breathe.
Don't give up, do not prelomi knee
You put the new fate of old to replace.

She's not like all
A moth flies to the moon in the spring,
Drinking sweet as a dream, tea on the balcony
And it is a pity that the world does not understand...
She dreams of the son on a sapphire throne.

She lives defiantly old-fashioned,
In her eyes die, blazing star universe
Laugh at her friends, does not understand family
But she will wait for someone who can change everything.
After all, he is wiser and simple-minded the snake than the dove,
Heart said it's time, jump into the heavenly hole.
Towards the life of another, with love not for show...
Such a joy, alas, for you, is a sad story.

I'm not the same and you're not the one -
Youth is gone, and with it the beauty.

My Gleb Samoilov still sitting on the chair
My Phil Anselmo from "the Panther" on tour
My Viktor Tsoi haven't bought a Muscovite,
My Kurt Cobain still not hooked on heroin.

Like pieces of a puzzle, two become one
And it's not just a metaphor for sex scenes.
Shared one heart, one dream,
If only the voyage broke the mast.

They drink oil like blood. We choke with tears.
In closed rooms doing threads of fate,
Unhappy doing the time - so was, is and will be.

To become an extremist just like bike.
Enough to be Russian and not be a faggot.

God, you're writer and Director of my life.
Tell me how many episodes I still, teeth clenched
Looking for the meaning between the lines of undelivered mail?
It's not a fairy tale, and you're not Walt Disney.