Вера Полозкова - Перевяжи эти дни тесемкой - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Turn these days with a ribbon, open, when you become old: the kalashnik feeds pancakes with salmon and drinks with you until six in the morning; He plays a macho, a throat of the blues - Moscow is deserted, the moon is full (I, in fact, love all of them for the fact that everything is as one punks: let it be educated first -class and cashmere coat - but it is pressed, loud and puts on like no one).

The idol returned to his Copenhagen, sarcasten, cut and large -eyed; And you are listening to Nina Hagen and Diamandes, you are reading Brodsky, Yates, Yitsa, this book, for the evening, that, and you hope to enlighten, but not a damn thing - you all look into the faces of whom to bury, to break. , headdown.

To fall in love - to exhale somehow anger that rushes with nostrils, like a bull: one desperate gag - a hundred jokes, twenty -three taverns - they ripped off the other day; It seems that they are already kept in handfuls; And the one whom you cannot forget, neither “revenge”, nor “release”, nor “sorry” - lives, smiling, Holen, advertising and loves the one that is a burning room; See you safely about the flame of your ocher's eyes.

You, in general, squeezed a whole five -year plan this year: so the young athlete throws the ground in a second from the record; You will get up, give a pill, with your palms you will wash cold sweat; Now, measuring the cage of your thoughts, like cattle, rushing around and loudly revise the vest to the one who believed in a different outcome.

Yes, however, what for you: about twenty years old, in the chest of a fire, in the head of the foxtrot; God is glad to swear fatherly, since you are expecting a sharpness from him; He gave passions to you, and the brain, and, in general, the spectacles are in full; So far, however, you are only a moska that is poured on an elephant; When you become not just a doll, such, a savvy in a spike - he will pull you out of the palm of rooms and communicate, as with a big one.

In the meantime, jump, like the first -year, all in black and bruises: run traps, nets, collapse; Everyone has learned, you are still in any way; grow up, read the gold books, remember everything, knit with braid; Otrada - in every second boy, salvation - only in you; Do not believe doubts causeless; Throw to preach vegetables; And do not get tied to men, money, illusions and things.

You will stop living hastily, shaking, you will understand how deaf was; All this paint, the cover, a variegated husk will peel off you; You can warm and weak; And instead of fashionable nonsense -

Someday in the gateway, Labukh will sing a romance on your poems.