Текст песни Александр Башлачев - Дым коромыслом

Hungry shame. Syt excitement.
Dynamite and wick your ass
Raw matches disguise in black smoke.
An hour later - a mess. After two - bedlam.
At dawn, the temple will scatter in the trash.
But we do not wear watches.
We don't want to die
And so do not even sleep.

And when not strong enough
We steal sugar from foreign graves.
And in the blood with boiling water
Squeeze the lemon of sin.
And buckets full of holes get songs
About holy water and their diseases.
But - thank God - all this will disappear
With the first cry of a rooster.

       
        Smoke. Smoke rocker
        Smoke hung over us.
        The lamp went out.
        And in a puddle of oil
                bird fluff is swimming.
        Smoke. Smoke rocker
        Smoke. Smoke rocker
        God grant us to understand
                all that the cock sings.

In new buildings - glass containers
Choking on burn
Under the howl of patrol sirens in the pipe,
In the dance of blue coals.
Who are there - angels or ghosts
We take food from any hand.
We can't go,
Because shit
After this meal, like glue.

        Smoke. Smoke rocker
        Smoke. Smoke rocker
        The musician is still blind,
        the sniper is still deaf.
        Smoke. Smoke rocker
        Smoke. Smoke rocker
        God grant us to understand
                all that the cock sings.

About bezrybe in a river that the cat cried
Today, every frog becomes cancer
And, putting two fingers in his mouth,
Whistles on Bald Mountain.
Tear down the web. Something is unclean here.
But with bayonets in the back are thorny numbers,
And the roar of engines in the slip calendar.
        And smoke. Smoke rocker.
        Smoke rocker.
        Smoke.