абуя ко - маяк - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

The dirty smell of my father's white basement flowing under the dressing room. A lonely, chilled body drowns in bed, imagining itself as the ruler of the living seas. His proud schooner rounds a ten-meter wave, fidgeting with an icy hand on a wet sheet. The body kicks, shifting the center of gravity to the side. Current against the wind. What could be worse. Two legs curled up at the chin are thrown over the blanket. The schooner flies over the water and falls, spattering brown saliva on the fingernails dangling in its mouth. In the white basement there is an open window. The weather outside is clear, but it is blowing strongly, not like before. The wind whistles through the window and hits the sail of the lone wanderer's schooner. The body turns over on its side. The body writhes in pain. The last leap into the abyss. The schooner flies into the wave and the sides shatter into pieces, throwing its head back against the headboard. The schooner, half submerged in the water, continues on its way. The Lighthouse is visible in the fog of the blue cloud of sea salt. He brings hope. Unattainable, but quite suitable for a dream to strive for. The legs of the bed begin to wobble. Red foam engulfs the schooner, shooting out of its small mouth. The schooner is doomed. There cannot be night without day. There can be no salvation without sorrow. The body doesn't give up. Small hands grabbed the mattress. The schooner goes completely under water. A second later, she flies out of the mouth of the bottomless abyss, scratching her palms with blood. The nostrils swell. A purple blanket falls to the floor, covering the western acediprole stain. The white basement is shackled. A languid groan fills him. Barely audible, but containing the kilohertz captured by the ear in spatial tension. Like ultrasound, creakingly cutting the smooth hand of the intertemporal shell. The schooner, battered but not depressed, sets course for the Mayak. The wheezing breath of the distant. Great view so you don't die today. The schooner slowly but purposefully takes off. In the lower reaches of the renunciation the water is now warm and calm. Stupid grin four years ago. I couldn't. And you couldn't. Now what? The body gasps, greedily licking its teeth with a viscous tongue. The storm fades into serenity. Taking away your last strength. Eyes roll. The metal door of the white basement explodes. Ugly people fly in. They lay the body on its side and promise that everything will be fine. The carmine coil crunches in your mouth. Easier breathing through the nose. And the Lighthouse remains so. Unattainable, but quite suitable for a dream.