Неизвестен - ночной полет - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Less less human. Human, it is to complain, to proceed with snot, to be a fool, to be helpless, vulnerable, in love, suffering, patient, alive. To succumb not from cunning, but from tenderness; Ask - will we see each other this year? And when will you call me? Do you love me? And I - yes; Between the dates, wait and cry, and not enter the next meeting in the calendar so as not to forget; Hope, not plan. Not only in love, in deeds too: do not keep your face when they are offended, but to show chagrin; Do not take revenge in a year and a half, but squeal at the same moment; Do not calculate the result if there is a courage right now and I want to get into the project with your head. This is normal, it is human. And, in any case, whatever it is about: they are waiting for help and support, and we do not expect anything from anyone.

Actually, with loss of support, it begins. You are always trying to rely on - on a mother, on a friend, on a man. Hardly believe that this is love, when here is a hand, here is the shoulder. And you slide everything, collapse, everything is in cotton wool, and where it was reliable, there is a void where it was forever, now it’s not even never, but such a gray note.

Maybe in these falls, your damn dexterity, flexibility there and armor here are being developed. It is no coincidence that Vasilisa hit the ground before turning into a bird - a pigeon, a dull, a hawk or a three -headed pterodactyl.

Once this will certainly happen to everyone who is tenacious enough not to break into meat: expectations disappear, hopes for other people fall from you like a dress, like shackles. You scatter and take off. And finally you become happy.

Absolutely.

Not because of love, not instead of love, love has nothing to do with it, when all of you and the arrow and flight.

Finally you belong to yourself and at first you only revel in this, and then it turns out that the world is also given to you in your hands, it is plastic-not all, but some part that you can really change for yourself, and all the missing supports will weave from the air , are formed from the folds of reality, and traffic lights are washed by a green wave every time it is necessary.

You can still fall, but nothing but death will happen to you. Then they say that you lost the fear of God. Explosions of exactly two - to survive the next time or not to survive. You look at the future horrors and you understand exactly: from this I will die, but from this - no. And why be afraid? After all, it is definitely not necessary to suffer, the pain immediately flows to the level of physiology and is transferred, not without the help of pills.

There is a feeling of invulnerability - for people. And the fate (or God, who has God), of course, cannot be replayed, but you can at least not be afraid.

They really do not cry in the pillow, guys. They go to cry to psychologists or to the cinema.

And there is a temptation to talk about cruelty. But no one took away their memory, empathy, kindness. Something else was lost in them, related to dependence on others. Maybe this is called "weakness."

And another temptation is to consider it “inhuman”. That is, from this beginning, this is a feeling from the inside. But perhaps it is just maturity. Here it is, the maturity of the human being, and the falling one - this youth was just. This youth flew off our bodies and shower, and a gray pen fell into the palm of another girl. The one that will now endure and cry.

Don't know. True, I don’t know, I don’t have a scheme for you, there is no truth, there is no promise. There is no longer a card that has become a handful of brisk flakes flying to the hill slide.

There is only a whistle of a happy arrow that has learned its goal, there is a flight of beast soaring on the open wings, tenderness for all living things and the smile of an ordinary human woman.