Кудряшева - Не бойся, милый - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Don’t be afraid, dear, it’s like a death from the TV, you will resurrect, you will get out somewhere after a century, because it is not even a virus, but, a hysteria, Saturday-Ugro, you have to sober up. It is time to go, in the bag on the road, boots, comb, mirror - Lord, who is this? .. On the street is not frosty, but vile - as if the hoppy sky was vomiting on a coat. Well, calmly, really lifting your head, to the stop, correctly, in no hurry, so good - neither the heart of naked, nor pink in a poor soul is visible.

This is how these, almost autumn, almost completely living empty days that begin by the resurrection, ending like thousands of days before them, you can’t hold them in your fingers - it is painfully slippery, mediocre shameless time, you come to Moscow in the evening, and you leave With Avtovo and yesterday. Friends live, even if it is bad, but somehow wee, and you are worse, also look for yourself, one shakes your muscles and is engaged, the other, now, falls in love with men. Go wash the dishes - the work is still, go to the forest, sleep, eat, neighing. And you stand your teeth for the world and you think that he will hold you.

You think you are so alone, such a copper-bearing funny colossus who wants to dive in her eyes ice and hide in the red dance of her hair. That you alone are silent for her with a broken breath and pray to an unbearable face that you are ready to burn for her flutter, for the voices of the roofs of the hoarse. She is always together, always with a retinue and she will run through your ash. And the horror is that it is really beautiful than all the beautiful on earth.

And what can you tell you - the dishes are washed, the evil dark five in the morning is not stretched, not exhausted, not taken out of the loose exhausted gut of that thread, the nerve from the tooth, live, sensitive, curled up in a hot, which those who believe at least A little bit in her embarrassed in their notes the name of "love" is. Once again - and by, and the thread stretches, and rubs about meaningless words, so it will not remain - and what then will you order to exist? Then, then, but for now everything foams, flounders with his pain in captivity, do not touch, let him dry, still have time to check, pull the string again. And you will cry again, cut everything, you will feel how it trembles inside.

But now you will straighten. Release. You will enter the bus. Get up. And you will live.