Текст песни макулатура - счастье

as little as possible the truth more quotes and dust into the eyes
life is too painful-convex like real female orgasms 15
dried intestine as a rope man underwear pulled apart
falling through the windows bright splashes of emptiness in the body burning

write about what disturbs really would hurt
a little easier to describe the lobby lounges and dressers
reprint and rhyme the first pages of Balzac
and carefully jump before the tie begins

re-grow skin whine be cheerful for facade
personal life laid out the boxes closed and hidden
to me no one has the beat do not describe sunsets
and on the road to repair shoes, I hear conversations in queues

I sampled and do small wellness sety
it's like a morning run to leave Moscow for the summer
the main thing to get rid of melodramatic memories
forget the location routes person's name and the names of

painless writings of his room on the yard and house
but the time spent together, even hiding in the pattern of wallpaper
Memory laughing reflections in the window frame and the sound of the kettle
in the smoke I see the traits of your face I hear the cries of seagulls

the reality is questionable how much extra eye in the room
if they even if only a fragment of his life show
can disappear dissolve with their words zamatsannymi
and I throw shit in the crowd as the Pepsi Tolmatsky

autobiography disguised and hidden between the lines
we are cut off from all this is no longer you and I do not
all the characters are fictional all matches are random
I stayed in a dream and now I dream reality
while hiding his frozen body in a lonely way of life
swept under the insides of cabinets days slaughtered and eviscerated
I look through the fog in my head as a toilet paper unrolling
in the toilet sink my head cut from the common memories

I would like to write honestly about you as a group of ze National
saying that will not go away to get drunk to cry inconsolably
follow you like a dog when you're a ghost with another fancy man
you will return home or is it eternal love

you again in full swing and you are smiling to each other as the speakers
Russian TV and I like the bartender complaining
we wanted to get married two years later would like to go somewhere
with it as if we were together again, just do not make plans

but the song is over three minutes and reality emerges
as a ninja turtle from the hatch and bring viscous time
along with it is impossible to struggle to survive or endure
and imaginary world that you build with the last line crumble

smooching in his characters like Donald Draper in stories
with seducing women you are only alcohol and bitterness
all expressed pizdezh and not want to tell die
let me be a coward and a buffoon graphomaniacs nepatsanom

but usyadus in the corner and at least tell myself what could be
my future is what are the chances I missed a year in which
I tried to pull myself together I have not hurt your indifference
it is not worse than idle interest in foreign

I myself se National and himself put the audience huskies
aspirated writing messages you can not see it was not
already accrued through the dirty cataracts memory
and I burn out the years as the dreadlocks shaves Tolmatsky

scoring his past ugly tattoos
if accidentally leave a bag at the door of the train
zabaltyvaet words confused as dirty hair
tramp prikornuvshego night at the pavilion with flowers
rest of your life can be killed in the attempt to re-start
destiny instead of one that is a cube of Lego
adhering to the dead body of the dead man in the kitchen fight
seemingly forever lost but recorded by investigators