Текст песни Бонч Бру Бонч - Последний Блюз

In the sky smoke clouds and the moon is white and languid,
In the mouth is not black as if a large filling
I see the stars scattered across the sky arbitrarily
I'm lying in a bloody puddle,
I have not hurt for a long time.
The story is simple, it's as old as the world.
As the old underpant is fairly re-styled,
Until the holes wiped, beaten with recesses
It does not tell slimy, beautiful phrases
I was shot in the chest,
This is the essence, in this stale essence
Naked facts like mercury.
My hopes spilled over the pavement with a sticky stream of blood.
There were four of them, in a black jeep Range Rover,
Each was slippery, white as a jellyfish,
Everyone was armed with trivial ultrasound
These shovki were sent by one clumsy muzzle,
He knew exactly that I would be at night in this place of the city
Dozens of bursts, people - no one
By the time the shavks shot all the shops at me,
And in vain. The bullet was number two,
Embracing the mind from the dilated eye
I scarcely knew what the horses had moved,
That I'm the future nail of the funeral ceremony.
Raging like hell, I thought it was fun
And it will be in the morgue to collect my rotten mess
Not naturally rasplostany, metal napigovanny
I'm painted with red paint on the asphalt.
I'm lying down, waiting for the ambulance,
And they will pick up my young strengths there
Very beautiful sky, very pale moon
I feel the universe is all visible to me
It resembles cotton candy
Pink, soft, slightly sticky
Sugary, empty new perspective comprehending
I write with a bloody heart, the life of a clean leaf
Bit ace of hearts, his last blues
I drink, I wait when God opens the lock
In that world, my world is already passion, flesh, mirages
Pale chimeras, phantoms - strange, strange.
God gnaws with us, the sky as a whole is not clear
How will I wash all these dark spots from my biography?
At a terrible trial, in this epitaph to himself,
I missed the moment of reckoning for earthly sins
By the strictness of the law of God, I forgot
That you do not have to rummage for a big dad
That God does not embroider a sinewy paw
Strange believe in independence, the eye prosecutor
Feeding will be a fight more abruptly than the Holocaust
I'm just a lonely island in the sea
That stretches from life to the graveyard
How Andrei Balkhovsky scrutinizes
In the gray sky, like in empty faces
My sky without participation, the twenty times the sky under Austerlitz
Police and ambulance arrive from the flanks,
Slowly, smoothly, as if in the rhythm of tango
A man of twenty in total
On my body, they are treated skillfully, they immediately know their business
People in the form write something in the protocols
Shake pockets, pick up shell cases, gunpowder
People in white coats cover the sheet of the eye
But I know there from above in the apathetic heavens,
Smokily smoke clouds and the moon is white and languid
In the mouth is not black as if a large seal ....