Текст песни Никита Стихами - Четыре

When half the autumn, it was already half-hearted.
Scarf closing songs in your mouth, do not lie
Only the oldest trees,
Leaving the most beautiful corpse instead.
The sun no longer cares,
At five in the morning just fine.
Still think about the important,
To use alcohol as a hand.
You have nothing to catch on,
Draws you with pieces of paper,
Play in phobia, November anyway.
Tapping, creaking, in a hoarse voice,
Going to the masses, forming a bazaar,
Without a difference, on the face just shit,
Writing down the line to everyone with whom he slept,
Language blackened - not scary.
There are nothing left except idols,
Go ahead here there is absolutely nothing to do,
Take all these roses back to your wallet,
You can dazzle more snow, where it was not.
The most beautiful smell of decaying leaves,
Day by day replacing some with others,
I crossed something out there.
Something out there suffered.
This is not a winner. It's just a soldier out of the game.
On the front of almost-events, you can almost remember,
About what the conversation was and with whom it was necessary to speak.
Such a beautifully dying something,
On the tombstones of the season
Solid sheets.
Crowns covered the shadows in the background.
Except the carriages already nothing will pass,
They all lead one long road,
There for fifteen kilometers,
Where there are ten doors to the corridor.
This fall today, like me
too bad,
So that tears can pour and scream the winged nothing.
I do not care