atramentaria - выдохшийся фломастер - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Inside each person, a palette of different colors of colors is hidden, many dark shades, many light, rainbow - convention, no more, with our pupils we can distinguish a certain number of colors. Such is the way, we live in one system, but at the same time, the system gives rise to units that illuminate the path with their smile. And with their pure acts, they add new colors to the palette. I am writing this and all in goosebumps. I look into her eyes and live a little easier. Let it be not mine, let them illuminate the path to others, I do not love and I do not need it. Yes, you need, don't fuck. Picking has already become a habit. Then I tied with drugs, I am now not connected with this, but last summer, getting lost in our city avenues, I admitted every minute, I love you. In fact, I do not know how to love, as many do not know how, in this my whole cross is. I was exchanged, bewildered, dried up and I was the same exhausted flock that rolled under someone else's bed. Around only dust, Palace below. Sometimes you don’t have to use metaphors. I already come from work every evening and get my face to the floor. Let the Palace, but a laminate, but I never leave the feeling that I have been to blame for something to blame for my life. Well, this is how I have to guess my children's dreams, then I promised my mother that I would never light. Now cigarettes, but there is something worse. Sending that devouring the soul. From here I fall into envy, anger, then every day they throw a bone, but I catch the air with my teeth. I just want to feel at least something. Soon September, I will come to my native village, I will put my grandfather’s boots, I went small in them and collected mushrooms. I'll sit down at my beloved tree. It would be beautiful to finish this text by the fact that I am with me, I will do something. But no. I have a warm blanket with me, soft bread and a thermos tea. And if so it was possible, in the notebook she donated, I will throw a handful of proposals.

I am so lost that I don’t even know why I tell you all. Ilyukha, friend, bring this dick, please, here I am nauseous to complain.

Music: Item Caligo