Гришковец и Бигуди - 08 -- Эхо - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

How many phone numbers do you remember by heart, any numbers that are important to you? How many numbers are in your notebook? How many? It doesn’t matter, what difference does it make! No matter what number you dial, someone will definitely answer you, they will definitely answer! It is impossible to make a mistake - someone will answer. Necessarily.

Let it be an answering machine or the voice of an operator - but a voice. Voice! And if someone accidentally dialed your number, they weren’t mistaken either. I wonder how they can be wrong, because you answered? They called you! Who answered? It was you who answered. They heard your voice.

Do you hear? Listen! Listen, do you hear? There is no silence. In this city it does not and cannot exist, and even in the loudest alley at night - it seems that it was quiet - shout and there will be an echo. But it wasn’t an echo, it was other people shouting, they didn’t even shout in response, but simply because it seemed to them at that second that it had become too quiet in this city. You didn't hear an echo, you heard voices. Do you see your shadow, long or short? Now, remember, it was not a shadow. There are no shadows in this city. It was another person who thought you were his shadow. Hurry, hurry, hurry, you have to hurry here!

How many times in this city can you tell a fresh joke? How many? Yes, only once, only once, because in a minute you will hear the same joke from someone else, but it won’t be funny anymore. Not funny at all. But you made it, and that’s why everyone laughed. The whole city laughed, even those you didn’t know laughed. And when you cry in this city, who knows, maybe at that moment you will mourn someone’s grief, the grief of unknown people unknown to you. The city is crying - how can you be on the sidelines?

Listen. Listen! Listen... Do you hear?

And in the summer the city begins to undress. Wonderful girls take off almost everything. They remain only in shreds of transparent fabric, and these shreds flutter in the hot city wind. Do you know who they undress for? They undress for a reason, no, they do it for you, for you personally. And remember - they all live here. All these wonderful women live here. Can you hear them breathing? Can you hear their eyelashes rising and falling? Do you hear the last clothes falling to the floor somewhere, somewhere on the outskirts? Listen. Listen to how desperately loud the music sounds in this city, it’s there, somewhere, deep underground, in a crowded subway car, someone turned on the player, and your favorite song is playing in his small headphones. You understand, right? Your favourite song. In someone's ears. Loud. Unbearable.