Аля - А все эти наши проблемы... - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

And all these problems are our problems, our breaths, our black hot failures because we grab life by the ankle and squeeze it, and do not know what to do next. As almost beloved - suddenly with a curved lip unexpectedly commands: "Mars to bed, they say." And she has a sparrow, falcon, a blue girl with a fragile nervous system. This is like in the cinema-smelly breathing pop-root, on the thigh with a palm of a sweaty hasty, but what? He follows you dutifully and lives with you, meaningless, unhappy. And she will reconcile, she will take a funny soul and remain a beautiful immortal body, but when she finally gets used to it, you will understand that you have long been crazy.

It is necessary to gently, so gradually, not on purpose, leaving, playing the curls, fingering, dissolving it on the thread, on the lace, holding the hands of collecting mirages of the outskirts, and when you stomp in a mint -shaped shirt and cherish the motive of your pile in the ears, it will splash out in the face of emerald mint and will cover you with his joy Lollice

I do not know what got rid of the horde and where my poison was poured to the last drops, my spring and the world are full of bright sensuality, the transparent string is driven away, all the masks were spilled out of the movements of the sharp ones, I feel almost innumerable young, I inhale the smell of bicycle lubricant, I breathe in. A little tired smell of the end of June. I am a child, now it’s deeply unimportant to me who else I will be no first. And he laughs and breathes moisture and breathes moist, so that the heart is bent with an arc hyperbol.

And it becomes a little disgusting that I was not alive and smaller, and I dreamed that we would meet on sports and not you, and I won’t notice you, and pretend that we are completely unfamiliar, and was already seriously tired, completely frozen And when I was thrown into a cold pool from the fact that someone kisses you in the back of the head. Only the wind bypasses on the right, and the sun on the left, finds out, rustles with the cassations of Suprastin. Excuse me, I still matured. Middle me, I seem to let go.

This can be explained by a gold astral, warm laugh, snow dust under a snowboard, I did not know that so many frantic living degrees of freedom got stuck inside me, I did not become older, I just became thinner, every note by the spring, it is involved in the spring, here Home at night and yelling heartily, endlessly, scary, wildly yell with happiness.

I like to keep it all in the palms, without applause, to revel in blue air. I so like to run away from someone else's house, washing a predawn cold, washed down on my ears, I like to fly high above the world, to break off a white sail, like from a cape, from thought. Leave the note: "Well, good morning, dear. I love you. Of course, in a good way."