Lyrics уо - Актриса
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Игра гениальной актрисы
Как осень, как листья.
Экскурсии в сердце, местами и к месту
Фалангами пальцев, кофе запястье
Улыбка-вспышка , и я проиграл свое счастье
Мы в центре, ты рядом, как будто так надо
"Игра и не более" шепчут фасады
Твоя атмосфера, твой запах, ты в целом
Откуда взялась? Ты на черном на белом
Нет лиц, нет гармоний, касание истории
О нас и о правде, и шепот «не надо»
Так тянет, так рвет,почти бросая ухватит
Игра гениальной актрисы не так ли?
И есть ли мне дело, до губ ее спелых?
До жестов, и правды чуть-чуть не дозрелой
На фоне различий, где место приличию
Ей хочется боли, сгорая как спичка
В полумрачном па, в театре столичном
И в зале его, я наверное лишний
Нужна ли игра мне этой актрисы?
Наверно не важно, закрыты кулисы
Игра гениальной актрисы
Любовные письма
Плацкарты, перроны и пот закулисья
Душа под софитом, в глубинах разбитых
Фантомные боли, ничто не забыто
Молитвы заклеены гастрольными списками
И ноты до боли в ушах стали низкими
Господь ей прощение, тревога посеяна
И первые всходы, расколят мучением
А я помолюсь, за нее, без иконы
Пылятся стихи, на забитых балконах
В такси на сиденьях, раскаются музы
По счетчику платит, мужчина не нужный
Верна Мельпомене, сильнее признанию
И только игра тревожит сознание
Ночами в нее проникает, лаская
То в холод, то в стыд безнадежно бросая.
Я гибну в ее слишком плавных движеньях
Не в силах успеть, захлебнувшись сомнением
Кричу, просыпаюсь и слышу как плачет
Игра гениальна, но неоднозначна.
The game of brilliant actress
Like autumn, like leaves.
Excursions in the heart, in places and in place
Phalanx fingers coffee wrist
Smile-flash and I lost my happiness
We are in the center, you are near, as if it should be
"Game and no more" whisper facades
Your atmosphere, your smell, you in general
Where did you come from? You on black on white
No faces, no harmonies, touch history
About us and the truth, and whisper "do not"
So pulls, so tears, almost throwing grabs
Playing a brilliant actress is it?
And if I care about her ripe lips?
Before the gestures, and the truth a little bit not mature
Against the background of the differences, where is the place of dwelling
She wants pain, burning like a match
In the twilight na, in the metropolitan theater
And in his hall, I'm probably superfluous
Do I need a game for this actress?
Probably not important, the backstage is closed.
The game of brilliant actress
Love letters
Placecards, platforms and backstage sweat
Soul under the soffit, in the depths of the broken
Phantom pains, nothing is forgotten
Prayers are sealed with touring lists.
And the notes to the pain in the ears became low.
Lord forgive her, alarm sown
And the first shoots, split the torment
And I pray for her, without an icon
Dusting poems on hammered balconies
In the taxi on the seats, muses repent
On the counter pays, the man is not necessary
Verna Melpomene, stronger recognition
And only the game disturbs the mind
At nights it penetrates, caressing
That in the cold, then in shame hopelessly throwing.
I'm dying in her too smooth movements.
Unable to be in time, choked with doubt
I scream, wake up and hear crying
The game is brilliant, but ambiguous.
Like autumn, like leaves.
Excursions in the heart, in places and in place
Phalanx fingers coffee wrist
Smile-flash and I lost my happiness
We are in the center, you are near, as if it should be
"Game and no more" whisper facades
Your atmosphere, your smell, you in general
Where did you come from? You on black on white
No faces, no harmonies, touch history
About us and the truth, and whisper "do not"
So pulls, so tears, almost throwing grabs
Playing a brilliant actress is it?
And if I care about her ripe lips?
Before the gestures, and the truth a little bit not mature
Against the background of the differences, where is the place of dwelling
She wants pain, burning like a match
In the twilight na, in the metropolitan theater
And in his hall, I'm probably superfluous
Do I need a game for this actress?
Probably not important, the backstage is closed.
The game of brilliant actress
Love letters
Placecards, platforms and backstage sweat
Soul under the soffit, in the depths of the broken
Phantom pains, nothing is forgotten
Prayers are sealed with touring lists.
And the notes to the pain in the ears became low.
Lord forgive her, alarm sown
And the first shoots, split the torment
And I pray for her, without an icon
Dusting poems on hammered balconies
In the taxi on the seats, muses repent
On the counter pays, the man is not necessary
Verna Melpomene, stronger recognition
And only the game disturbs the mind
At nights it penetrates, caressing
That in the cold, then in shame hopelessly throwing.
I'm dying in her too smooth movements.
Unable to be in time, choked with doubt
I scream, wake up and hear crying
The game is brilliant, but ambiguous.