Анюта Umka - Что-то о любви - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

You hear the plinth, I go down to you on the wallpaper of my problems.

This is not my story, not I am its author and there was no us, it is no longer my world.

There is a line behind which iron no longer hurts. I have a feeling that the world has been chewing on the last days.

I could tell you a lot about myself, but I'm afraid you won’t believe me ...

Loud silence of an empty room with a narrow phone and repaid light.

But there are people on whom you need to hang a sign: "After such they go crazy"

I loved you so that the sky torn with screams. You were the first. most. close.

I cut my veins with your misunderstanding and fought against the walls of your indifference.

And then you played enough and threw it away.

And I walked in your footsteps and inhaled your aroma

In other people's beds. Everything tried to beg you from God. God was outside the access zone.

Guys. Guys do not know how to love. They do not take her name on the table. In the fields of notebooks. They do not stick out on her page.

In her albums. Do not represent her when they listen to the pain of heavy music. They do not cry at night from resentment of her indifference.

The guys smoke and play CS. [guys don't like]

Autumn will heal all scars

Everyone says forget him, forget it ...

But can you forget the multiplication table?!

As a child, we were often offended that no one was playing with us. Now we are offended that everyone is playing with us.

You know, these eyes are red in the morning, either from smoke either from fatigue with a thickened thirst for poems.

We rarely talked, although we were so often together ...

... you know, they don't like dirty shoes ..

Knees in a dreaming carcass. And from the eye-Bole. I am saturated with loneliness, I shout to you that you are insanely dear to me.

But you are silent and look into the distance. I kiss your hands by and inhale you. portions to smoked lungs

And at this time, our tenderness dies on the asphalt

How much memory does I keep that I throw out of the mind? I hear the mechanics of this heart, love does not die to a stretched "goodbye"

Minutes of the movie sunk and all the elegant became rude

The cheekbones were reduced by cold lips.

The windows and the soul were stunned, stuck, stuck with pain. Is there wine in memory, like spilled wine with salt?

-No, only 256 shades of gray.