Капюшон Ноу Мо - Лирика ветра - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Behind the curtains snow, my poems on white cages, I do not know the answer, my world is not your ghetto, and Stopudovo birds will fly my city in truth, people in sports sweets, melt dead trams. We will freeze the broken destinies, the steps, you give me a knife to cut the crumbs, people give me evil, I will take it with me, you will not understand this story, you just became free. The fucking critic of life limited himself to the genre, translate the song to him, he rot from the gills, along the stations, fences and the fathers will not understand us, I put on the hood, these are not tears, this is sediment. The pipes of passers -by are smoked, the player of my eyes on Play, in my pocket is not money, in my pocket the wind, in my soul there is faith, in my heart there is a rhythm, in my city cool, where people have a choice. I will shoot, but by the torn clothes for the release, I do not appreciate your Novier, I have not grown out of it, the element of the streets, the guide leads us to truths, behind the lapel of the black hat, I thought. Swan Lake, Black Swan, Bitch, pulling me a thin neck, I thought (-a) so lonely, eat a garbage in me, I will become, I know the same again, that you are angry and black gives me hope. I will become a flat dog, I will not grind the bite to people, take off the blood with blood, just let's smoke, meet the sunset and wait for the last bus, forgive and deny all the thoughts that we have crazy. The air in the arches is walking, the city heated by the sun, the Requiem for a dream sounds in these forgotten walkie -talkies, I am not alone, I was mistaken ,ocking at the exit, and I felt comfortable only in your wire. This is the lyrics and I’m not ashamed, I’ll have time, I put on a hood, keeping patience in my soul, it will shoot a spring, white horses in the sky, I wrote it in April for strangers. The lyrics of UNO, Earth, not a city, but dust, old and young spectators of a new film, together or apart, I need that noise that stack this night, into this white sheet. Dry autumn air, I know for sure not too late, fly away or near my window, an annoying guest, an annoying guest, a dumb cinema script.