Аля Кудряшева - Три, два, один - 09 - А все эти наши проблемы... - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

And all these problems of ours, our shortness of breath, our black hot failures, are because we grab life by the ankle and squeeze it, and don’t know what to do next. Like an almost loved one - suddenly, with a curved lip, he unexpectedly commands: “March to bed, they say.” And she is our little sparrow, a falcon, a blue girl with a fragile nervous system. This one is like in the movies - stinking, breathing in popcorn, hurriedly running a sweaty palm down your thigh, But what about her? Follows you obediently and lives with you, senseless, unhappy. And she will reconcile herself, take out her funny soul and remain a beautiful immortal body, but when she finally gets used to you, you will understand that you have long since stopped wanting her.

You need to gently, so gradually, inadvertently, walking away, playing, sorting through the curls, unravel it by thread, by cord, holding hands to collect mirages of the outskirts, and when you stamp on the mint in your shirt and cherish the motif of your Piazzola in your ears, it will splash out in face of emerald mint and will cover you with its candy-like joy.

I don’t know what took the edge off my teeth and where my last drop of poison was poured, it’s spring and the world is completely filled with bright sensuality, a transparent string right through, all the masks fell out from sudden movements, I feel almost invincibly young, I inhale the smell of bicycle lubricant, a slightly tired smell of the end of June. I’m a child, now it doesn’t really matter to me who else I’m not the first. And all around you laugh causticly and breathe wetly, so that your heart arches into an arc of hyperbole.

And it even becomes a little disgusting because I was lifeless and smaller, and dreamed that we’d meet on Sportivnaya and you wouldn’t notice me, but I wouldn’t notice you, and pretend that we were complete strangers, and I was already seriously tired, completely frozen, and when I was thrown into a cold pool because someone kisses the back of your head. Only the wind goes around on the right, and the sun on the left, he recognizes, rustling Suprastin’s wafers. Forgive me, I have matured after all. Congratulate me, I seem to have let go.

This can be explained by the golden astral, warm laughter, snow dust under a snowboard, I didn’t know that I had so many crazy living degrees of freedom stuck inside me, I didn’t get older, I just became thinner, with every vein, every note I am involved in spring, here we go home at night and scream heart-rendingly, endlessly, scary, scream wildly with happiness.

I like to hold it all in my palms, without applause, to revel in the blue air. I so like to run away from someone else’s house, to wash myself head over heels in the pre-dawn cold, I so like to fly high above the world, to be taken off by a white sail, as if from a cape, from my thoughts. Leave a note: "Well, good morning, honey. I love you. Of course, in a good way."