dobbro - buddta - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

carefully ripped open petals of children's stomachs close next station children's photographs in mountain ranges of dusty albums you probably don't remember and haven't seen my memory is enclosed on the matte surface of the film by the stickiness of a touch on the face of a child who was told by voices of railway stations full of cold echo that you can't drink from every night you can't fit in a heavy and complicated consciousness into the delicate fabrics of one’s own childhood cannot recall fairy tales composed to oneself there are only bolts of engine oil, dots and factor-2, and a fairy tale is only about a lost somewhere, someone with some briefcase went somehow somehow - which school I once went to somehow and caught a raven and they croaked with grave laughter because of the poplars and bushes and many faces on the stones arched their eyebrows in surprise from death convulsions shot their eyes at me and some I could not find my father’s grave where where did she roll, maybe she can ask some faces, I loved to go home with my grandmother through the cemetery to look at the tombstones and she certainly said she was so young, and from the height of my six and a half years I tried to comprehend death, the aromas of the season will overwhelm you like on this a picture where you, at the age of five, are taken by the wet hand of the waves of the Black Sea and are sure that you can fly this way, flew in happy from twenty to thirty and there

maybe we’ll say goodbye or that’s what, bring your time on beautiful plates, rather, I’m hungry in the evenings, we ate Hamsun by completely different people before our eyes, everything swims and laughs, we slept on the same benches, lose the book Freken, it’s almost the same as listening to my funny voice three years ago and imagine that there are whole time-linked people who are the same who are not a second and died as if there is a memory and a previous life as if there was once me