Аля Кудряшева - - Три, два, один - 03 - Ползёт-не ползёт строчка... - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Creeps, the line is not crawling, things are going badly. I had a daughter, thin as an arrow. I followed me, touched me with my shoulder. She learned to wake summer, taught to laugh bees. November turns to rain, climbs into the sleeves. Transparent as the wind. Crumine, like grass. I tried to live forever - I could not stand it, I can’t. I had a candle - a Christmas tree in the snow.

What is the time? I don’t know for sure, arrows at zero. I had a daughter - the best on earth. On the street is darkness - a dog with him, ventilate under evil water. She learned to write songs and cry over nonsense. And I do not walk in the parks, the fate of a stranger - not to interfere. I fed tits in the parks, knitted a shaggy scarf. Life jumped out suddenly, like a heart from under the rib. The smell of honey and silver came from the lake.

In the winter, spring pays, the world has a new round. I bought dresses, two dresses of different colors. Everything, as she asked and happiness the price is a nickel. White - so that she wore and black - just like that. Left near the pillow: wake up - and put on. And he yawned benevolently and lay on his sofa. But I swallow tears, and breaks in the temple of longing, my golden one left, but I could not let go.

Not letters - some points, read an hour - fell ill. I had a daughter, a girl, a moth. So you jump from a bump to a bump and fall into nowhere. Lilac bell, birch water. Now whatever day - evening, words - still not the same. I had a candle, a spark in the dark. Pour in the snow in the sand, fall asleep, leave, not look. There was tenderness with me - where should I put her?

Paints remained with me - the darkness of the sky, white dust. My fairy tale disappeared, starting for myself. For a long time, the pilgrims went south. She goes by - but I do not recognize. On the street minus thirty, not saying a word, not my daughter - the queen carries in the arms of the king. The queen is a knitted sweater, the queen is proud to become. I run nearby - I try not to lag behind. Scraps of the soul - sew -ka, the last - look - a chance: on a thick tsarist neck, a shaggy is a funny scarf. The king sleeping like a turtle, wrapped, woolen. It seems to me that the snow smells of a wall with a sun.