Текст песни Проезд Белинского - Письмо к Даме

Hello, sweetheart!
Sullenly
Day once frowned squints
And, as usual, flakes
Ate hearty hangover street.
I, as a hostage,
As if handcuffed,
The inspiration is chained to the table.
Paper can not wait poetinoy reprimand,
A poet is waiting for the word.

Without waiting, the moat.

Paper aches,
Tons of flakes melt tearfully.
And I, like a sultry Noah
I am looking for a suitable way thing.

And you - the traffic light,
And at the appointed hour
I work on a red run.
On the way to build a house of phrases
And he gathered noktyurnovy puzzle ...

Scattered over the new one.
Prosper Merimee
Serves saucer under the apple Lipton.
Shagane, you're my Shagane,
I'm sorry for the ridiculous
Post Scriptum.
Once again, I pardoned.
Not looking for the creature:
Muse night cruel joke.
Therefore, Goodbye!
Your humble king,
Poet Maxim Iskandyrov.