Текст песни Олег Митяев - Художник

How hard is it to be an artist among the gray asphalt,
From the black from the rain, then froze and white,
Among the houses, state and unfamiliar words oncoming persons
And snow strands of wires,
And snow strands of wires and wet painted eyelashes.
And every day in the bus, in the delirious excitement of past,
Solve puzzles on the frozen glasses,
On the glass and on memory, and from the truth of someone's lying,
And soul jams, and on the canvas with the name & quot; Living & quot ;.
How hard is it to be an artist, do not sleep in the storm behind a wall,
A swim under the whisper of rain on a black creepy depth
Remember, like the noise of the storm, and even survive a drop -
And because you can not close your eyes and suddenly not be an artist.
1980