Аля Кудряшева - Кукольник - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Theater Spring.

Nowhere to blew up, there is nowhere to fresk

The puppeteer - in the reservation, with no one to talk to.

The puppeteer composes the puppeteer subordinates, the puppeteer reministers rippled puppets. This wig is indelient, this costume is not in fashion, this is normal, it seems, just no dolls.

There are no dolls all the time, dolls go through the light, dolls do not like bids driving them in the face. The dolls are friends not with those, dolls blizzard steering, dolls take time, time goes to an end.

No one to wave on the weave, not anyone to go

The puppeteer sneakers will survive snow.

The puppeteer in lightweight weight, the puppeteer is forever in red, the puppeteer will not cover the sky in the sky. The puppeteer writes the plays - the plays about everything is fine, everything would be fine except - no one puts the plays.

The puppeteer of red suits, viewers of the scoundrels.

The puppeteer is just a master, master-erythrocyte.

The puppeteer writes VSE, the master chews the gum, he knew the world is hopelessly dead. If he does not paint a tear, then Harlequin at night is typing the mascara. If he encourages instead of foreign monteches, well, for example, Bucchini, well, for example, Corolla ... The audience breaks the nimes, lubricates shades, only the tombstigs are correct, only changes the roles.

The puppeteer, like a shoemaker, drinks and considers days.

The puppeteer seems to be someone subordinated.

He changes the years to the RO, and the city, the city changes, too, changes the scene with a gesture. The puppeteer - he is not proud, how will you have proud, if the frost is growing against the wool? The Master is imperfect, the master is not co-vertex, the master will pause the phone, putting the Pierre's patch, the cherries smell like a scene, the shirma will smell, the puppeteer pulls his hands to warm confusion.

The puppeteer wants to her mother, wants to cry and lie,

Angels have been treated, no one to help.

Not to whom to lean, there is no one to whisper, not to glorify a drop of hot elixir.

That's why I will dream again, how much stations are left? Whatever predicted - again fresh and raw.

So he goes at midnight, the rustle of the night railings.

If he had not remembered and did not speak.

Only goes a marrow, the smell of lemon crusts, in the air salt and powder - as always in spring. Where the violin is playing, life began with a scream, the wind in the face - watch, how don't you - not with me? Red Blood Taurus in the conversion of Aries, the wind winds a log, what is your vertel? The nerves of the trickle, if you breathe unevenly, it means that spring neurons will be thrust you.

Puppeteer rubs palm, carefully tears

If only he did not survive longing ...

The puppeteer looks into the crack, the world inflates his cheeks, he is to blame - it would still be trembling in the world. Not to suffering, right, the puppeteer writes the right, the puppeteer rightfully belongs. The puppeteer looks in the summer, the master does not know the measures, the master spread the curtains, the master flies to Tibet. He resolve Juliet, he overtook Romeo, scared to think that he changed to Macbeth.

Master - What is this? Master is not a couple of us.

Music - Shostakovich. Pulse - Do not recount.

There will be spring by side, there will be chicks to Handing.

The puppeteer is at work, there is no time to talk.