Текст песни вера полозкова - Строки стынут кровоподтёками

Word - Faith Polozkova
Music - Elena Ishtar

Lines get cool kropodtekami
On the lips, that the fire withered.
People hiding his eyes behind glasses,
Stress does not listen to me.
Evil, honest indifference -
In hell them my tantrums? ..
They would be more decent machine
Without metaphors and esoteric,
They are in love with dumplings with ketchup,
What words of my air?
I understand it's an eternal
Ironic indifference!
They breathe smoke and gossip,
These bottles beer foam,
What are they, I, seventeen
Mnogoumnaya preacher? ..
They look a little gloating,
By paternal wryly:
"Grow up first, my passionate,
Tea, and we were passionate helluva lot! "
I break them representation -
Their little girl debilnolitsye
Do not tremble on the new Pelevin,
A night flirt with the police.
I I fight to become the best
Paints a way that - not faded,
But ... You're not listening to me, too,
Phlegmatic blikuya glasses ...