Текст песни Андрей Трабл х made community - Свобода взаперти

To find yourself, there is the easiest option:
it is enough to understand what the folio is hiding in itself.
But books are fiction. I endured it in myself
knowing: a talented poet is always a fucking duelist;
or in a hotel - a loop. I looped words
while under Brant's reproach, we searched the shore with a mast.
Or, fearing to be convicted, got into the case,
but I am neither alive nor dead. Then when is my time, Erich?
I went on the right path, only the road is.
I didn’t bother the worry, taking all the waste.
As if to spite you, I survived, having left the chains and to whom.
You can call me with the mouse, because I always ran with the volume
something important, something that will kill and drink.
Believe me, more than you in yourself, always keep the binding.
There is a world that pages have hidden
where the “earth” of Morois is dying under the sky of Austerlitz.

I'm here with tons of identical letters
groans of the same two
I can not forbid them to write locked up.

I attached importance to somehow exclaiming,
and the ladies did not linger, as scheduled.
Here is a label that someone brazenly attaches:
the whole world is “Theater”, yes, and you are in it Michael Lambert.
I am among the pints and liters was too keen;
where the elite are sleeping, I have been sleeping for two days already;
the days that somehow gave me bitches were knocked off rhythm,
because my black man is inside - he is really black.
The plans are dead, like Golovlevs.
I'm so used to living without a head, like Dowell, only among the locals.
Forgetting myself i will allow myself again
write nothing but only with a missing rod
inside. Inside you hear the whisper of the scene.
For cheap overcoats clog up something valuable.
To find yourself, there is the easiest option:
it is enough to understand what the folio is hiding in itself.

I'm here with tons of identical letters
groans of the same two
I can not forbid them to write locked up.