Текст песни ПридуРОК - Букварель

The faces of the moon-prostitute
The aspen leaves grew thoughtful
As an artist, having lost his mind,
I wrote you into hundreds of pictures

Cooling sadness in a white mug
Someone is chilly in his pocket
About someone whispered in your ear
Someone's nerves flow from the ceiling

My eyelids lead dance
With the marvelous ease of singing birds
And let all the dumb tell
Like a tear from your long eyelashes

Suddenly it will break and crash with a crash,
The crystal pitcher will break
Glitter in the eyes will certainly go out
In the indifferent human hundreds of spins

An angry look, moaning moans,
Sweet smoke from the pipe, a warm scarf,
Ravens fly over the river
Under the misery of outlandish harps

A pile of books that are gathering dust on the shelf,
The waterfall is a powerful stream,
The truth of life, a haystack in a needle,
In wires electric current,

The smell of tart coffee outside the door,
Light from windows and eyes is me
Accurately from the letters in watercolor
Shamelessly draw you.

Somewhere the rain falls asleep with a snowstorm
And knocking at the window is me
Accurately from the letters in watercolor
Shamelessly draw you

Confused moon touching
The leaves are torn off aspen branches
I'd like to be with you a little
On any of those same pictures ...