Текст песни Сатана Печёт Блины - человек и поэт

I compose this poem
in front of an open window smoking
It is still not there but I do not believe him
and did not believe a single day

like all poetry, however
created when you want
it's just a collection of stupid lines
a man needs food

man needs calories
to kick the wheel
if someone is a poet then woe to him
the poet does not bear anything

neither social sense nor cargo
except that nonsense and delirium
for a man a poet is a burden
be ashamed of the poet

man is neither hot nor cold
neither from iamba nor from chorea
man and hot and cold
on battery

a man must live properly
to give a warm battery
from birth to the graveyard itself
working without regret

and then are executed with interest
its basic needs
until every absurd verse of yours
fills with silly phrases

pathos of bile and slander
and groundless words
not related to simple
real life

be ashamed of the poet you are an empty place
empty sentences
until a man of labor everywhere
every day he works the previous forest

and you stand at the window of an open
look at the grayness of the summer sky
ashamed the sky is not for that man issued
to stare at him

the sky was hanged by us
so that the ceiling is easier to understand
if you can not realize it
then the place on the square

where a person gathers in the evening
to see how you look at the executions
be ashamed of the poet you are provided with a loop
loops stronger than your poems

I finish this poem
at an old coffee house on an input
and in something already even believe him
like