Текст песни Александр Розенбаум - Воспоминания о будущем

Leaked pockets
Yes, there is no one to sew them up
So I am drunk in the insole,
I'm running from the mirror.

Even the rupe does not hold
Neither in the hands nor in the saying,
And somewhere life revolves
How far, how close.

Over the mountain, over the sea -
Where are you, bustling?
And in my quiet backwater
The devils die - they feel sick.

Is it gray in the beard
Demon in the ribs - no difference.
People have become proud
On weekdays and on holidays.

People have become literate,
Ten classes each
And if less - shame,
Literate citizens!

But I remember in a communal apartment we
New Year - the whole society,
Snack, vodka - is it a pity
By name, patronymic.

And now the doors are strong,
All eyes with chains
What is your fortress -
Communication dash yes dots.

Matches came out this morning
I'm down the stairs
What's in the nursery barking,
I thought someone would be furious.

I'm at the stall: mother, they say,
Give matches out of turn.
And she answered: "Come on, go,
Me too, son! ”

And so it worked out:
From the pot to the diesel
And all the fun on the radio
Yes, and on TV.

Do you know how you want
To humanly:
By name, patronymic,
Well, in general, fatherly!