Текст песни перерывпятьминут - существую

The stories smell like lies. Roses smell like chemistry. "It is fantastic!" - a scream in a bookstore, a guy in a green rumpled park found a Camus book. The girl in the subway stands on the edge of the platform and sadly looks down at the rails. A guy in a green rumpled park will be happy to read on the Internet about her death, inspired by the writer's instructions. Sphynx hairless cat jumps down and knocks down a porcelain cup. The cup falls and breaks on the floor, covered with linoleum. But now there is no one to collect the fragments, the girl, the mistress of the cat, lies on the rails in parts. An online request for "how to commit suicide." Warm water in the bathroom, scented soap, a purple razor blade. The mother of the girl from the metro, the owner of the cat, whose lover Camus unconsciously was delighted, does not finish reading the novel of the great writer Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky until the end, because her daughter is now laid out in parts. The funeral. A closed coffin, a crying father who will start drinking from this day. A guy in a rumpled green park is following Twitter. Consumer society, corporate herd, everyone writes poetry. Having hated the environment, the request on the Internet “how to commit suicide” is repeated. Failure. The rope breaks the chandelier, crumbs of the ceiling sprinkle on the head of a lover of existential literature. Booze. The smell of burnt matches and songs with an upset guitar in honor of the man who survived. That night he has a girl. The next morning she disappears. Another depression, immature teenage body digests a bottle of vodka for a week. Camus book is lost. Monday. Open laptop, mail, colleagues, music. A few more wrinkled pieces of paper of various denominations. The father of the family is a sad girl who is already gently decaying for spare parts in the grave, writes a verse without rhyme. Painful whistling in the lungs, bronchitis. When loneliness ends, a dumb question concludes the verse. A guy in a green rumpled park writes on Twitter a quote from Waste Paper that no one will understand. Shame on the weekend, pain at the base of the penis. The message "I'm pregnant, I need money, and if there is no money, my friends will bury you." An online request for "how to commit suicide." A guy in a rumpled green park, metro, Lubyanka, stands on the edge of the platform and sadly down on the rails.