Потаня - Он жил у железной дороги - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

He lived at the railway (surrendered a friend of friend-kindness) - and suddenly woke up in anxiety, like a train, stroke. The window of an uncomfortable-naked apartment looked in darkness. The fulfillment, voiced by the hum of the landscape opened him.

The outskirts, stalls, stalls, iron sighs and screenshots, raw thick beeps, and the voice of the young, beauties for sure, and the slow rumble of the cast iron heavy tramistry.

There was a secret case, the emergency regime was reigned, there he threatened something, buzzed, obedient plans for someone else's plans, in the autumn humbling crown and squeezed metal, and the smell of cement and gar above the wet platform Vital.

But brighter of other sensations was a privatic, family call of huge empty premises, warehouses, warehouses, shops - and the uestorate of the Neuly, the service Kamork was comfortable, where they sleep, if there is a minute, and tea burning.

And then - the failures, spans, connectors, paths, lights, nightspaces, emptiness, and empty, and wasteland, rattling bridges of the rocker, smeared with dash windows - all this is fulfilled the meaning and is busy in a secret game.

And he could not feel suddenly in his lonely Khrushchobe in his lonely Khrushchobe, which he donated him for a dark alarm, which wanders around the city, through the courtyards, - rest, which comes from this obscure game.

It is calmer to sleep if someone does not know sleep before the light, and work is going on, the invisible is subordinated, and the deepest dream, the continued sleep, as long as the car cling to the carriage.

And he fell asleep at sunrise under the creaking, crossings, beeps, how lonely children and abandoned old men sleep - in the hope that everything is not in vain and the secret will of Mudra, in the arms of someone else's space, where someone else's game lasts.