Текст песни Голос Омерики - Про Поэта

The streets were deserted, the night descended over the city
I alone can not sleep, I was young and inquisitive
And I - the poet, writing poems, folding lines
And for an hour already sitting on a blank leaf

Here's a question about what to write in the 21st century
What can flutter in the new man?
The fly has long faded arrows of Cupid
And do not write about the same shit, flash and iPhones!

I wonder if he lived in our time, Pushkin,
What would he then wrote a fiery girlfriend?
Sorry Natasha supposedly can not come
Heads. editor sat astride - fucking dandruff!

And Dostoevsky used to the penny machines merged,
Gogol to porn sites to death obdrochilsya
Ohuel would Ponds Mikhail Bulgakov
From the fact that there are witches and ghouls shodnyak

Yeah, that, do not say! The world turned upside down!
Mozart himself would be in a tavern vodka travanulsya,
El Salvador so in general, well, the fact that Dali
In the transition mustache pizdyuley be given!

Well, that goes around the world hardened poet
Nope longer martial affairs, and Assol no!
There is no love like brothers smote Finnish knife
With no one to fight mill windy!

And about that time to write about it if you do not?
What to look for inspiration? No shit is not!
No zapisochek the window and songs under the balcony ...
So will about shit, flash and iPhones!