Lyrics Олег Мухачев - цепь

The house burned almost immediately. The same-type square hissed, it was pouring rain. A cellophane cigarette wrapper swept through the tangled streets. Sleeping insects fell on streams and rushed into the river. The rivers dragged along the minutes, replacing the old with new ones. The fire was shining brightly, the house was falling back. The dirt was destroyed, the sky changed, stones were washed away. The tired dogs breathed under the bridges, the cats screamed. Close-knit birds flew, cars flew, releasing a combustible mixture. Football nets were torn on the summer field, teenage mouths screamed, the grass stirred. The unfortunate families swore in five apartments, in six they finished their dinner, in three they washed, went to bed. The sky blazed, the roof cracked, the walls cracked. Thunderstorms raged, clouds swelled, night thundered. The apple scarecrow spun, creating a movement of emptiness at a half-meter distance from itself. The sunset was closing, the stars were pretending, the moon was turning yellow, turning pale. October trembled, hinting at a vicious cold circle. Birds died, insects came to life, dirt appeared. The house was breaking, the house was twisting, waving his arms and legs, drooling and blood. The square calmed down, the rain calmed down. The wrapper was slowly sinking into a puddle. The lamp posts went out, the headlights went out, the stars went out. Thieves carried theirs, maniacs took theirs, lovers knew theirs. Each part of the chain was in the same key. Further infinity.