Lyrics Марианна Плотникова - Неформальная экскурсия по Перми

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... over the iron calm of the rails
feel the trembling of the veins
doomed Celsius decline
silent and almost motionless

city ​​that promised movement
either words or souls
even stones go down the hills
whispering as if - "shshshshi"

the conversation begins with death
not remembering the number of years
there she was brought in an envelope
here - they cut off the epaulette from the shoulder

for the museum yearning is obvious
this bitterness and dust on the teeth
maintaining the presence of the species
a person leaves himself

a pair of feet drives another
bustling crowd shape
the height turns into a curve
poultry food - a lane of cereals

here is the forest, the chopped off skeleton
triumphant victory of nails
over the greatness of mass and height
stand in the center and listen - here

and in the well echo of the sky
reaching the very bottom
where pain is no longer distinguishable
the same mortal clarity is visible

geometry is indispensable here
and in your non-euclidean dreams
every monument, step from the pedestal
having done it turns to dust

spirits are hiding behind bars
(feet hearing human counting)
what is inconspicuous from bodies, like flies
flew off while still alive

finally, touching a living
the nightingales of the gardens
and wander under an invisible escort
either a thrill, or catching eternity

visitors to the attraction
whose cynical and simple epicrisis
preserved as a form of law
impossibility of way in and out

watch without the opportunity to join
so the speech is almost dry
like a river in the eyes of an eyewitness
take off his hat and, probably, honor

only approaching the riverbed where the greens
remains faithful to the hands
how warm it is in the museum rooms
you look around a little more closely

however, they weren't looking like that
who had a crane and an ace
there are differently living lands
you need to taste this

I’ll go, and on the bank of the Kama
the head will ring above the water
and believe that the local stones
from the tongue come alive into words

preserves the aftertaste of the soil
artificial mouth-to-mouth exhalation
for a split second
in the universe nobody dies