Алексей Гравицкий - В Зоне Тумана - Диалог Угрюмого и Хлюпика - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Fresh air did not help. The squelch was shaking. I stopped on the sidelines from the entrance - a small door under the huge Arena shield. My friend immediately rolled back to the wall, crawled along it and, falling into his squat, lowered his head in his arms.

The shoulders of the squelch walked with a shake. Is it crying or just adrenaline picked up?

He raised his head. His eyes were dry, but he continued to pound him.

- For what? he asked in his voice. - Why is it?

“For money,” I answered honestly. - Even for the thrill. Maybe for what reason. I am not a psychologist to poke this about it. And Freud did not read. I only know that he has everything because of the eggs.

“And this is a stone's throw from the normal, law -abiding world,” it complained about what and it is not known to whom the squelch.

Sissy! I was shocked with anger. I stopped restraining and gave free rein to feelings. The hand itself darted forward. I grabbed him by the breasts, lifted it above the ground and imprinted my back into the wall. He rolled up his feet, grabbed my hand. Not that he resisted, rather from surprise.

- Two steps from which world? - quietly, but very harshly, I growled. - From your careless refined world, which is not. You just don't know the other. See it only on TV. In cinema and in criminal news. You perceive it as a movie. Someone hugged drugs and came out of the balcony to the best life - cinema. Somewhere the house was blown up - a movie. Salabon grandfathers are pouring - cinema. The sluts fuck, in infancy without thinking about anything, and then they throw children into the trash - cinema.

I squeezed my fingers. The squealing slap on the ground and began to rub his neck pulled in his jacket.

“You can even sigh, they say, oh how sorry, what a nightmare is going on.” But for you, this nightmare, like a Hollywood fairy tale about living dead. You don't believe it. You do not notice that it is, that you live in this, that it can touch you. How is it ... Thunder will not break through - the man does not cross. Until this personally concerns you, you, following the example of an ostrich, live in ignorance with your head in the sand. "I am not visible - I'm not scared." The squelch rose. The eyes are crazy, the erysipelas is red.

- What are you gloomy?

In fact, why did it suffer me? - flashed in my head.

“The world is shit,” I summed up by inertia. - Zone - shit. People are shit.

He staggered and continued to rub his neck. I looked at me squint.

“But this is not true,” he shook his head. Not true? And then what is true? What he sees is true. It is. And it is everywhere. And there are because there are people who allow themselves to be prohibited for millennia. Was it worth hundreds and thousands of years to withdraw prohibitions, build morals, commandments and religions in order to learn how to go around and justify themselves? I am not justifying myself. Honestly I say: I am shit. The same as everyone else. I would like to be better, but I can’t.

I think I spoke out loud. In any case, the last phrase was said in the voice. The squirrel looked at me with understanding. His gaze suddenly became the same, metal, which can break the bones and chop firewood.

“They just offended you very much,” he said quietly. “I don’t know who, I don’t know when, but they hit very much.”

I shook my head. Yes, hit. Not just hit, but beat all my life. And they stole not only cones, but also an understanding of how this world is arranged.

“You didn’t put you on the table with your face,” I muttered.

“They attached it,” the squelch said. “And more than you think.” Just hold the blow you need to be able to. Not only when they beat in the face, but also when they spit into the soul. The person will sometimes be offended - it does not matter how. He receives experience, albeit negative. And, you know, ninety -nine out of the hundred decides, they say, since others can beat me, then I can lute others. Moreover, as impunity. And only one by a hundred will remember how he felt when he, as you say, is a “face on the table”. And he will not beat the other with anger, but stops, remembering what it feels like to be broken. Remember: “Follow the other cheek”? You have to be a very strong person in order to be able not to hit in response. And you are a weakness.