Текст песни Руру, найтивыход - помехи

around banality
and where it had not been haunted by the idea .
my stereo minute letter
more until you do not reach
I did not find the former here
with a broad smile , dragged his hands up, not down.
and teach me to enjoy a new day
do not open the eyes of the night
and do not run to the desk .
floating , hanging out on the river fish
and I'll never be a bird
except that in the cell.
not afraid of rain
not afraid of the snow falling from the roof .
and feelings become redundant
having lost the sense of a smile from his face flushed
seems to have died long ago , I ,
but I remember the taste of cherries from the very childhood
to run away .
and now have nowhere to go
days tastefully loneliness
And do not think the dead of the night
behind him behind.
lazy lines in the dirt of the past
and fuck it all
hello loneliness
yes Zdravsvujte boring days
together we cry about the stupid love
louder because we are alone
refuse to cross the threshold of the house feet
enough past behind and pulls into the room again
warming themselves account in seti.do pain is familiar to us
lethal doses of simple photo albums
in anticipation of happiness ready

city ​​without exits .
only inside a compressed.
and thread veins , narrow roads ,
as before, a
over looking thy unhappy .
though, I know you can be smiling all ,
with me without saying a word ,
and in trouble speaking,
that everything is in order ,
discharge only at home,
but there seemed to crush the wall.
axiom of sadness in Dubbed
in a new way verses inside
variable before crushing pain
and lying at random look.
look like people is alien to them ,
they are all happy and smiling as before.
and even without false false
I do not remember just when
OK was all.
took all the old pictures of
albums
shovel their grievances
again and within themselves.
life behind the walls of the entrances
she is languishing in the corners of
chetyrёhstennyh rooms,
without compromising on the neighbors
just a pain , and no longer needed .
gloves all changing as people
cold , stained face ,
on which we were looking for all native .
remembering burn a ton of joy, but we were all equally.
fake words fly
from lying lips for a morning latte ,
then in you fake
finds a way through the throat ,
otharkivayas the corridors ,
empty Mondays
and still empty weekdays
kitchen kettle boiled
simply yes is empty .
in semirubilnikah breakage,
their strands of electric circuits
raskoryut ideas of others .
and again that's home intercoms,
I like to cry in vain ,
straining his throat , which then
just pouring honey can
cure ,
and lain three weeks at home.

empty word , all these poems
without one :
they should be because someone hear
but I still revel in the bitterness of alcohol,
lozhayas on the windowsill across
Keep breathing smoother and quieter still .
I'm going to get out of danger ,
just looking at the bottles .
I - these are the words that you never
proiznesёsh not aloud.
well, now,
echo walls on both sides ,
holding sheets and head disturbance.