Lyrics житьбез - приезжай
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житьбез.
приезжай,
будем обниматься.
остановки запомнят
наши порезанные запястья,
наши дешевые джинсы и следы кроссовок .
вино,кстати,тоже дешевое. да и сами мы ни черта не стоим.
руки в карманах раньше были,а теперь обволакиваем другие.
в автобусах непременно рядом едем.
мне все это приснилось.
я мечтаю пропасть каждый день в январской метели.
или умереть по дороге в школу.
как проснусь сразу.
депрессивное состояние стало привычным.
меня слушают все знакомые,но никто не помог ни разу.
а лишь говорят,что все проблемы - коробок спичечный.
поджечь раз и пропадет.
попробуйте стать частью мира от которого вас воротит.
где каждая третья девушка не на том уровне открывает рот.
где каждый второй на псевдоспорте.
я ищу твои руки между рук всего этого скопища.
и хоть это вряд ли спасет,прошу у вина помощи.
знаешь,в моем городе
среди серости улиц и улыбок взрослых.
стены домов кричат надписями всех пьяных подростков.
Мне нравится1814 янв в 18:42|Ответить
live without.
come,
will cuddle.
stops will be remembered
our cut wrists,
our cheap jeans and traces of sneakers.
wine, by the way, is also cheap. and we ourselves do not stand a damn thing.
hands in the pockets used to be, and now we envelop others.
in the buses we are sure to go near.
I dreamed it all.
I dream of the abyss every day in January snowstorm.
or die on the way to school.
I wake up right away.
the depressive state became habitual.
All my friends listen to me, but no one has helped me once.
but they only say that all problems are matchboxes.
set fire once and disappear.
Try to become a part of the world from which you are turned back.
where every third girl at the wrong level opens her mouth.
where every second on pseudo-sport.
I am looking for your hands between the hands of all this gathering.
and although it is unlikely to save, I ask the wine for help.
you know in my town
among the dullness of the streets and the smiles of adults.
the walls of houses shout with the inscriptions of all drunk teenagers.
I like it1814 Jan. at 18: 42 | Reply
come,
will cuddle.
stops will be remembered
our cut wrists,
our cheap jeans and traces of sneakers.
wine, by the way, is also cheap. and we ourselves do not stand a damn thing.
hands in the pockets used to be, and now we envelop others.
in the buses we are sure to go near.
I dreamed it all.
I dream of the abyss every day in January snowstorm.
or die on the way to school.
I wake up right away.
the depressive state became habitual.
All my friends listen to me, but no one has helped me once.
but they only say that all problems are matchboxes.
set fire once and disappear.
Try to become a part of the world from which you are turned back.
where every third girl at the wrong level opens her mouth.
where every second on pseudo-sport.
I am looking for your hands between the hands of all this gathering.
and although it is unlikely to save, I ask the wine for help.
you know in my town
among the dullness of the streets and the smiles of adults.
the walls of houses shout with the inscriptions of all drunk teenagers.
I like it1814 Jan. at 18: 42 | Reply