Lyrics монеточка - Стихи круче чем школа
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На полях повозки, грядки, скучные узоры
И читаю с рифмой меткой
Ведь ЕГЭ не скоро
не поймут прикола, ведь в контрольной пусто
Но зато я после школы делаю искусство
Сочиняйте девочки стихи, это круче, чем школа
На страницах чернильные брызги, чувства, как искры, строки, как выстрел
И багряный костёр из сердец разожгите глаголам
И спишите в ночной лихорадке, в вашей тетрадке, музыкой сладкой
Мой физрук исчадие ада в синем Адидасе
И стихов ему не надо в физкультурном классе
Сочинительство и муза строго по программе
А не то прощайте музы, горе папе, маме
Нормативы, зачёты для чего и о чём ты
За листком переводишь листок
Спотыкаясь о рифмы, вены рек режет грифель и его не остановит звонок
Сочиняйте девочки стихи, это круче, чем школа
На страницах чернильные брызги, чувства, как искры, строки, как выстрел
И багряный костёр из сердец разожгите глаголам
И спишите в ночной лихорадке, в вашей тетрадке, музыкой сладкой
Я с семьёй давно одета в кандалы заботы
Мне твердят, что быть поэтом это не работа
Не поймут меня подружки, ведь полны порока
А я пинаю жизнь с вертушки и бегу с урока
Вместо цифр и формул, звонкий ямб сердце тронул,
Закружил в модернисткой пурге
Знаю, слэш и японский,
На меня смотрит Бродский, нашёптывает "плюнь на ЕГЭ"
Сочиняйте девочки стихи, это круче, чем школа
На страницах чернильные брызги, чувства, как искры, строки, как выстрел
И багряный костёр из сердец разожгите глаголам
И спишите в ночной лихорадке, в вашей тетрадке, музыкой сладкой
Сочиняйте девочки*звуки раздражения и неудачи*
On the fields of carts, beds, boring patterns
And I read with a rhyme tag
After all, the exam is not soon
They will not understand the joke, because in the control empty
But then I do art after school
Compose girls poems, it is cooler than school
On the pages are ink spray, feelings like sparks, lines, like a shot
And a crimson bonfire from hearts, light up verbs
And write in night fever, in your notebook, sweet music
My physical man of hell in Blue Adidas
And he does not need poetry in a physical education class
Composition and muse strictly according to the program
And then say goodbye to the muse, grief dad, mom
Standards, tests for what and what are you talking about
You translate a sheet behind a leaflet
Stumbling about rhymes, the rivers veins cuts the griffle and he will not stop the bell
Compose girls poems, it is cooler than school
On the pages are ink spray, feelings like sparks, lines, like a shot
And a crimson bonfire from hearts, light up verbs
And write in night fever, in your notebook, sweet music
I have been dressed in shackles of care with my family for a long time
They say to me that being a poet is not a job
Girlfriends will not understand me, because they are full of vice
And I kick my life from the turntable and run from the lesson
Instead of numbers and formulas, a sonorous iambic touched his heart,
Sweeted in the modernist Purge
I know, slash and Japanese,
Brodsky looks at me, whispers "spit on the exam"
Compose girls poems, it is cooler than school
On the pages are ink spray, feelings like sparks, lines, like a shot
And a crimson bonfire from hearts, light up verbs
And write in night fever, in your notebook, sweet music
Compose girls*sounds of irritation and failure*
And I read with a rhyme tag
After all, the exam is not soon
They will not understand the joke, because in the control empty
But then I do art after school
Compose girls poems, it is cooler than school
On the pages are ink spray, feelings like sparks, lines, like a shot
And a crimson bonfire from hearts, light up verbs
And write in night fever, in your notebook, sweet music
My physical man of hell in Blue Adidas
And he does not need poetry in a physical education class
Composition and muse strictly according to the program
And then say goodbye to the muse, grief dad, mom
Standards, tests for what and what are you talking about
You translate a sheet behind a leaflet
Stumbling about rhymes, the rivers veins cuts the griffle and he will not stop the bell
Compose girls poems, it is cooler than school
On the pages are ink spray, feelings like sparks, lines, like a shot
And a crimson bonfire from hearts, light up verbs
And write in night fever, in your notebook, sweet music
I have been dressed in shackles of care with my family for a long time
They say to me that being a poet is not a job
Girlfriends will not understand me, because they are full of vice
And I kick my life from the turntable and run from the lesson
Instead of numbers and formulas, a sonorous iambic touched his heart,
Sweeted in the modernist Purge
I know, slash and Japanese,
Brodsky looks at me, whispers "spit on the exam"
Compose girls poems, it is cooler than school
On the pages are ink spray, feelings like sparks, lines, like a shot
And a crimson bonfire from hearts, light up verbs
And write in night fever, in your notebook, sweet music
Compose girls*sounds of irritation and failure*