Александр Кёльн-Фрай - Близко Зима - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I am sharpened in a prison of concrete chambers. Four walls, an alarm - a bell tire. The instrumental melodies whispering parade, which will not stop the clock, unlocking the time of the one who is insane, young and wing.

My ocean is made of ink and black lines. Unfortunately, this concrete castle, my prison is madly dear to me. And the syllable of my lines will not pass all rock, which does not finish me on time. With your fingers, a gently pressed trigger.

And my thoughts are a stream of magnetized waves. My vessel is already full and full. My texts are someone else's sky, an adamant green sleep. I am leaving in an alcohol impregnated, where the whiskey spills and the saxophone sounds.

My bus in the fog climbing the hill, realizes all the charm of wheels and columns. Running low -frequency radio waves, my phrases, intrigues, and low bow. My king, you don't see? It's not a dream! I am sending the last cartridge to the ebonite trunk.

I deliberately repeat other people's words. The names of the ships, the names of the king. The last drops of poppy milk, and then at least a flood! At least ash! I dissolved my feelings in words. But cold winds were blowing ... Winter close.