Текст песни Записки Неизвестного - тайна врача

Play the game a sick pianist!
Bay notes to convulsions in weary hands!
I am the darkness in his eyes stuck optometrist
And I washed my soul. my body is baptizing.
And I am on the face of the crucifixion of sobriety,
Finishing his dying coolness of autumn.
A clock on the wrist with a blunt blade glide,
See - sunset sky pissed!
And you try and sing health-ka,
After all, if was conceived in a hospital bed.
The aroma from the stench of garbage prepletaetsya colors
And the children amuse themselves by weeping widows tin.
Here it is! My happiness funny,
Rose thorns disfigured hand.
Paintings on bandages cherry paint
Insignificance truths before the majesty of truth.
There is nothing sadder in life,
The visible face of an absurd death,
When the angel leaves, absorbs despair
And you see how the church crowned devils.
Songs about freedom thunder shackles
Current drunkenness sobriety sober.
In this life, to die even as new,
In this death to live even newer.