Lyrics Истина - вывернуть пепел из легких.
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Каждый день говорю себе, что нужно меньше курить.
Но только говорю.
С температурой я вышел из дома, чтобы купить сигарет.
Как только они оказались у меня в руках я решил скурить первую.
Про себя снова говорю, что нужно меньше курить, но правая рука уже тянется в карман за зажигалкой.
Дым попадает в мои больные астмой легкие и смола оседает на самое дно.
Представляю, как скоро сам сяду на дно, убивая себя каждый день все больше и больше.
Но я люблю сигареты, это наверное единственное, что я сейчас искренне люблю.
Каждая сигарета - это как время, ты сжигаешь его, оставляя внутри себя след.
Этот след, наверное - память.
Про алкоголь мне даже говорить не хочется,
Ведь печень вроде не смеется надо мной, пока что.
Но это только "пока".
Может совсем скоро меня найдет тот человек, который вывернет пепел из моих легких,
Который скажет мне, что ему неприятно быть со мной,
потому что я курю.
И может только тогда я снова в голове прокручу эту фразу "нужно меньше курить."
На миг задумаюсь и стану по-настоящему меньше курить.
А пока я буду курить ровно столько же, сколько и курил.
Нужно меньше курить...
Every day I tell myself that you need to smoke less.
But just say it.
With the temperature, I left the house to buy cigarettes.
As soon as they were in my hands, I decided to smoke the first one.
I again say to myself that you need to smoke less, but the right hand is already reaching into the pocket behind the lighter.
Smoke enters my asthmatic lungs and tar settles to the very bottom.
I can imagine how soon I myself will sink to the bottom, killing myself every day more and more.
But I love cigarettes, this is probably the only thing that I sincerely love now.
Each cigarette is like time, you burn it, leaving a trail inside you.
This trace is probably a memory.
I don’t even want to talk about alcohol,
After all, the liver does not seem to laugh at me, for now.
But this is only a "bye".
Maybe soon the man who will turn the ashes out of my lungs will find me
Who will tell me that it’s not pleasant for him to be with me,
because I smoke.
And maybe only then I will again scroll through my head the phrase "you need to smoke less."
I think for a moment and I will really smoke less.
In the meantime, I will smoke exactly as much as I smoked.
Need less smoke ...
But just say it.
With the temperature, I left the house to buy cigarettes.
As soon as they were in my hands, I decided to smoke the first one.
I again say to myself that you need to smoke less, but the right hand is already reaching into the pocket behind the lighter.
Smoke enters my asthmatic lungs and tar settles to the very bottom.
I can imagine how soon I myself will sink to the bottom, killing myself every day more and more.
But I love cigarettes, this is probably the only thing that I sincerely love now.
Each cigarette is like time, you burn it, leaving a trail inside you.
This trace is probably a memory.
I don’t even want to talk about alcohol,
After all, the liver does not seem to laugh at me, for now.
But this is only a "bye".
Maybe soon the man who will turn the ashes out of my lungs will find me
Who will tell me that it’s not pleasant for him to be with me,
because I smoke.
And maybe only then I will again scroll through my head the phrase "you need to smoke less."
I think for a moment and I will really smoke less.
In the meantime, I will smoke exactly as much as I smoked.
Need less smoke ...