Текст песни Федор Кроткий - Шепчут линии на руке

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The lines on the hand whisper:
I do not have time to catch you
Only unless the song is finished
And the familiar road to hell
And in room number six
On the window lattice cross
Pray and wait for miracles
Wait and wait, for so many years in a row

The life of the poet is crossed out
Stand up to the light and not feel peace
Cigarette and cloth, the night before the storm
In the blue ribbon of veins on the needle flowing happiness

Let there be a fly - let it be bad weather
Fireflies, like stars, in a handful
And to heaven, where the Lord
Yes they are unlikely to reach
After all, the last nail will not be taken out
Well, the guests were shouting: toast
Toli fool, toli called guest
Only wine will be served, only poison

You and would be happy to live like everyone else
Not on the counter to the band
Only where is he, that wonderful light?
Lighthouses only blink in a row
Yes, another neighbor will drop by.
With a cigarette, tipsy
Your light in your hand
Hmy: what, are the manuscripts burning?

What are your poems? Gingerbread? The Scourge?
If you do not howl with anguish, so sing
And the orchestra will light up its copper
Well, say, it's not in vain, not in vain
Our life is like our death
Laughter through tears, it is well known
The one stepping up from the balcony
Wet rose fell November