Клим Стронский - голод - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

And I will also block warmth hands in your direction!

Snap alcohol memories from love starvation!

I will no longer look in your windows, dove and empty.

I rituals of emptiness scare in the brick wall Your name.

I hate you, Paris city!

Where every meter is wicked by my veins, with a request to lie down under your heels.

I'm just a person who took a dream with reality,

Where am I stronger than you!

I'm just a drop of oil,

Falling in the past of pure milk.

I hate your lips, hot and burning my neck!

Enough! Stop! Take the knife and make cuts on it,

Maybe then my reflexes will not allow bodies to touch.

I hate you, for having loved, and you managed to break deeper.

I hate every Piedor, throws my eyes to your ...

You hate me for rudeness, but only so I could win!

Toxica willoky my head, and with alcohol we will break out of the hands in the hands of a beautiful girl, stopping the feelings of minutes of her other kisses.

I no longer torments the pain at night with cold

On bed with the sheet, on which you once lay.

I no longer close the second pillow face,

In the desire to suffocation from the remainder of you on the pillowcase.

All this is stupid and meaningless, but I'm not funny.

Turning the threshold of the room, fall on the floor from breaking.

What is this breaking? Maybe from the cold, and maybe from what your warmth did not feel, and the stomach tingles, as, once with you next.

I'm tired of everything that is happening, very!

You will not see my red eyes, and I will not know if you want.

They became cold, because I have not seen joy from the fucking peace so long ago!

Only excerpts of longing are pulled out essays on the walls of the city.

I am sick of cigarettes, but only they fill the wounds from your feelings,

It turns me in the morning vomiting in the toilet, from every week lived in a restless loneliness.

I'm not free.

I was told by chains of the place of the hometown,

Adding cold from its brick walls.

Wake me when you are near in my bed,

That is, never wake!

So I went to the astral and lost a connection with this rotten world!

Look at your hands: brushes in the blood, and do not remember how to scratch your back in the rustling of love.

Just look at your eyes in the mirror!

You will see greed, the desire to lock me in the room,

sometimes feed fake warmth,

And herself go out to the street all day,

Sometimes at night. Predize me!

And I will hang on the rope that holds for the throat,

So I did not escape, but you did not hold

And I did not restrain the pain in the chest and boldly disappeared in the corners.

You can't find me, honey, but I can't go out.