Lyrics А. Абельцев - Философ на диване

Philosopher on the couch.

Singer of Russia, contractor of God
Wheezes in columns about the fight.
It’s not difficult to learn quotes,
It’s more difficult to forge a sword.
The poet once got tired
And disappeared into the world of sounds.
Not for that, he was dying,
To be played by Bezrukov!
Not for that, he tore the aorta,
To make it more colorful with a word,
For someone to learn chords
And in a booze he performed as a singer!
..........................
Not for that and not about it ...
Who will judge now?
Now use the poet,
To subdue the intellect
Its top 40. Higher degrees!
The page is boiling with likes.
And if in the status: "Broke the sail!",
That you, of course, is a scholar.
But my story is busy with another
An itchy depth of questions.
Imagine on the couch
Lies a young philosopher.
A little puffy from thought
On the guillotine of important thoughts
Becomes still sullen
When it's already gloomy.
He does not spare eyes and hands,
He opens The Wisdom of Years.
Not from the bulldozer and not from boredom
Helped the philosopher on the Internet.
Public sparks of gold
He carves a little breathing.
He longs for words, he longs for truths
Socrates requires a soul.
Fiddling fingers fingering
He comprehended the Holy Grail!
The philosopher has been lying since November
And it's February already.
"It's time to think about it! -
A thought flashed across her forehead. -
"You can spit on Eshenbach,
If there is not a word about winter. "
Dives in Nietzsche, Kant, Bach -
From truths as if on a bed
But suddenly he hears, in a big way
Someone in the face in the yard.
The brave philosopher jumped in to help,
But suddenly he remembered about Christ:
Like, if you got it on the right,
Rather, the left stand.
"Why should I get out of bed,
Engage in ridiculous fights? "
After all, the commandments must be trusted
No wonder they are written!
.................................
The philosopher lies near May.
No words, no letters from friends ...
And devouring loneliness
Explores the inside of people.
Here Thomas Mann bail him -
Silence is a high meaning!
I don’t give a damn that there was no friend
But someone else's thought was found!
Friends are being tortured by time,
And it is true that the soul is one.
Friends get old, fall away
And the truth is always true.
And how not to believe Cicero,
When is a great worthy?
The philosopher cooks pasta
And now he’s calm for friends.
..................................
Maybe you’ll be alarmed
What is our philosopher unemployed?
Calm In his gut
East entered irrevocably.
I chose the work to my liking -
Work, then, will not have to.
And outside the window, July is already
And the sun is laughing joyfully.
And it didn’t stop you to laugh,
When they did not know serious thoughts.
The philosopher dreams of treatises
The teachings tore the mind!
And even though the sofa is not a harrow,
But also, you know, destiny!
Hands can the whole country
But the brains in essence
Penetrate so that the bronze eyelid
To reveal the stronghold of being ...
After all, not every person
Given to make discoveries!
..................................
For sim we will leave the hero
At the crossroads of book truths.
Annoyingly a few, I will not hide
What days fall like leaves.
Not a new story concept,
But without it, perhaps, it’s bad.
After all, understanding is a recipe,
And awareness is a dish.