Smokki - Год человека - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Everyone wants to share a problem

Everyone will get into the soul

Everyone will fall in love and attract for everyone

Everyone in their eyes shine and the spiritual joins the conversation

But in your head, the colors mixed up

And in a gray mask merged from the crowd

A year flew by, and you are all the same child

I am ready to always kill in my mistakes

Returning to your dreams again ...

Isn't it scary to return to dreams?

What did the children's soul forget in the world cruel?

Where everyone is ready to put a knife to his throat

Where it is scary, even with yourself.

I would just like to understand ...

It is a pity that you did not understand this before.

When the year flew by and the white night met you, with a gift.

But is it happiness?

Where stumbling like an absurd kitten, you will be

You will be

You will cry again and repent that you are standing something.

And once the summer was brighter, free, warm. But my sun went out at the same time as it was just like that of my spirit lifted.

I see your signals.

Erown, you get rid of problems.

But to stand your head, this is not to cripple yourself

Yes, it’s so simple, to knock out superfluous.

How much have you accumulated suffering

How much survived and how much I lost

And again acquired.

But you knew one thing!

All this would not be bored, if only to be an outcast.

Just be necessary, not lazy.

Be

I was wrong. I did not need to start to believe in which I do not understand.

And yet not so terrible.

You know that you will let your tears at night, and in the afternoon, as if nothing had happened, you will rejoice for loved ones and friends.

You should not drop their spirit.

Your problems are your problems.

You drove yourself into a cage!

You are building something

Somewhere you have time

You please.

I am confused. I would like to become unreal for a while, to be carelessly like silence, somewhere to sit, where the sun is replacing the moon. He will stop and think about everything.

For a year now I have been cleaning my soul

How many problems I studied

And how much more remains.

In the text I survived both death and anger

On the lines of phones, I scored a terrible mixture of tears and blood.

These revelations helped me

More than once they saved the cut -off

After all, in every text of my nickname, the soul is laid.

Torn, but to someone dear

Dranded, but beckoning something.

So what is it worth dreaming?

Dreams are always so different.

But do you want to take a walk?

And there we’ll talk.