Текст песни Данни Белый - XI

I often wrote about the angles,
which ultimately become hostage to these.
Their sum (even pre-determined)
changed. After multiplied by empty
human. Here, the cold and the bird in the window,
odnokartechnoy shot flying into,
stops grandiose flight,
a spiral trajectory, falling, repeats,
if my mouth in front of the stage poetry,
if the rains of November.
Here, four corners, four walls,
one, one, one I have.
As the saying goes: "The incident isperchen".
Not needing the execution stake,
I aspire to a final station
if the train Odintsovo - Kuntsevo.

The door closes creaking teeth,
with the speed of falling things.
And I'm sitting in the realm of the corners,
whose amount as days in a year, or rather less than five.