Вова Palach - Погаснет свет - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

There's a snowstorm in the window, there's text and Beatles on the monitor,

Cross on the word diploma, two hundred in a glass with ice.

Away from the songs with aplomb, everyone dreams of summer, warmth,

But under arrest, winter’s thoughts have long been swept away...to zero

Just give the prisoner free rein to cut the convoy,

A wrong step and that’s it...good bye American Boy,

How much more will we raise for the death?

How many weddings have you attended so you can barely drag yourself home?

And then at fifteen the kid sees something like this, why do you need it?

You won’t get close even at forty, but fear won’t close your eyes.

And whoever fucks off beyond the border to remain a spiritual outcast there,

Maybe easily...hello to the Age of Stagnation.

But fuck it, let’s build something that your God is not worthy of,

Guys, keep your heads up, let something simple be in your thoughts.

It's always calmer at home than on tour (So what?)

After all, what doesn’t kill us is not worth us.

I bought a military uniform, fuck it - show me

How wrong I am, blame the smart guys for the school of life.

Is there a rod? As if you won't spin around a pole,

And if it’s the devil, you’ll end up with a furry fucker.

It's simple - the answer to all questions is a question,

“Are you sure of every word that you once uttered?”

At least it’s no longer cool to be held responsible for words

Of the ten cops here, nine sing “Kolshchik” by Krug.

Although it is difficult for sinking ships without help,

But it would be easier to just spit, and even though I’m a skinny bastard, I don’t think the same.

When the old woman came with a scythe, she left toothless,

Don't let chance decide your fate, it's absurd

When the lights go out it will be too late

No quarrels to the point of tears, no sex on the blue, no new crosses in Happy Birthday,

Not a special word from the people who created him.

And not a sober feeling that this is all serious.

How to forget about everything, forget almost everyone,

lock the door and just leave.

Where is the bitterness of defeat - laughter and joy of victory,

When the lights go out, we won't be laughing.

People are separated by tens and hundreds of thousands of kilometers.

They don't know each other. And they may never know.

They can pass each other on the street and not even suspect how close they are.

But when a person hears something in a song that makes goosebumps run down his body,

make you think “Yes, it’s like about me,” then 2 complete strangers literally become the closest friends in absentia for a few minutes.

And it's amazing. This alone is probably worth writing about.

And all these “battle raps”, “criteria” and so on, putting creativity and one’s own “I” on the assembly line in pathetic attempts to adapt to fashion and conquer

at least some audience, at least some age and at least some kind of thinking... well, who knows what this could cause. Be real... first of all, everyone writes for themselves anyway... This is by no means directed towards Ilya, don’t think so.

One or two, and I’m from a city where the snow melts in May,

It’s hard for many to imagine where they fight in packs and what there is in Moscow time.

I prefer the old sound, the one with the fatter cue ball,

A juicy barrel for these trendy Disney snares.

We live in real time, not in Fantasy mode -

We dream of cheap gasoline, not zero Mercedes.

Thoughts are sometimes inverted, but consistently honest,

With a generous investment of heart in every fresh text.

This is the essence of heaven on your head in songs,

This is fucked up, bro, Vesuvius in action in my soul,

And when it sounded here, I honestly didn’t know

That it will be possible to fly to the final on the Dragon.

When there are so many important hip-hop people around,

When rapper Basota pushes for the truth in his lyrics.

And there is no shame in the concentration of special nonsense

In the very words from which their songs are woven.

And we took ourselves on the streets for the most part,

Sometimes we despaired, sometimes we believed in happiness,

And only self-confidence did not allow the abyss

Don't disappear into the city literally overnight.

I remember glasses flying, I remember the first blow,

Then a mix-up with the Generals of the Sand Quarries.

All promises become dust over time,

If the light goes out, you will fall or wings will grow.

Your paradise may grow