Lyrics Александр Щербина - Игра в пазлы

We cannot predict
What the day ahead is preparing for us:
A learned cat doesn’t catch mice,
Morality, I have to admit
Always ahead of the tale
Heroes, feeling the denouement,
They get bored and lose their agility ...
One poet is willing to pay
For a leather piece of shagreen
Stubborn little consolation
In memorized “everything has its own term”,
Though curiosity is not a prophet -
It bridges, then inquiries ...
It is known: according to the law of Kafka,
Dreams are born in longing.
Without building castles in the sand
A century you will not erect a pyramid.
Bye biologists subspecies
Worms are classified -
He himself sharpen them from the inside,
Empty doubt swarm burrows.
The fruits of science are illusory
In the affairs of the prophecy of fate,
Questions “if” yes “if”
Where to solve solitaire ...

So be it.
Of pure stubbornness
Let's play the puzzles of being:
Suppose you and I lived
In Moscow alone, in one capital,
At one very busy hour
We managed to fall in love.
Like a fur coat from a gentleman’s shoulder
The Lord threw us this grace
I whispered to her: “You never dreamed”,
She leaning towards the pencil
She wrote to me: “I am writing to you ...
I’m calling you ... Why more ... "
We are getting used to. Involuntarily
Reducing the whole world to a simple “we”.
In the heat of spring confusion
Looking for a rented apartment
Secretly from everyone
And besides viral
Passers-by kissed in full ...
In short, the joke was a success:
At the height of the concert season
Under the brave hit of Mendelssohn
We got married finally ...
It would seem - the singer died,
Slave of honor and Eros ...
But no! Family swamp,
How frightening the local muses
Not overshadowed by our union
Sword and peaceful yelling
Love talent is not robbed -
Only reasoned slightly ...

But it’s not for nothing that they say: “Dashing
The trouble has begun! ” Five o'clock!
Not yet finished these lines,
Already called (and "without fail!")
To visit the estate of relatives ...
And here is an approximate missus,
As when on the chaise,
Fly yourself on the train
Still in love, no longer shaving
According to the Russian age-old habit
Painting rural life,
Taking for granted the inevitable
Interrogation, feeding for slaughter,
And cocks, a little dawdle,
The victorious cry "wake up and sing!" ...
All for the sake of the one that is glad
You like wildflowers.
What is the "Devil Wears Prada"
When is the lightest sundress
Her faded daisies
It is so embarrassing that howling is not howling,
Saves unless mothers
A vintage vigilant convoy
Leading us under the white handles
On a piece of land
Where on the rights of the metropolitan little thing
Naming the master zucchini
"And-really-glorious-squash,"
Awkwardly stomping around carved
Grass that's so sensational
Then it turns out to be cilantro ...

When is the sleepy sun
Already yawning at sunset
And the whole family is troublesome
He sits down to deal cards
You play hide and seek with yourself
And simoron on the ace ...
You are both sad and pleased
Look into your favorite eyes.
And if it’s not folding, even for a while,
But to be almost mine for everyone,
His - jammed jam,
His - forgivably funny ...
All by. In less than an hour
How infinitely lonely
Referring to the call of the authorities,
Slipping over the threshold -
To freshly washed air
Hanging from sloping roofs
Taking a classic pose
"Poet in Mikhailovsky", soar
High - in thoughts of freedom
And other ghostly things ...

It turns out a month. Squealing
There are lively crickets on the stoves.
The cat swarm by the cheek
Overgrown like a ravine with weeds,
Along the street, a man with a button accordion
Yelling about millions of roses ...
And somehow the question itself arises
About a cup of other port
(Literally evaluate the "blend"),
To already reverently
Growing into the local surroundings,
Forget about art,
About Menedelson, about the subway,
About mosquito bites,
About the frog bolero ...
Sitting and interpreting this way and that
Creator’s foggy plan,
Who sent you to such a
Deaf "same" that without screw
Do not understand this drain:
Swamp, street, sunset ...
Sorry Creator
Not mastered