Only several days before we met, I had killed myself several times Each one for a sin on my soul, repentant death of the ego And the trees on my grave were hung in joyous apathy You were neither man nor woman, yet a person all the same and your hair was smiling
The objective Slavic King was foreboding but intrigued and you pained to be affectionate I feigned the aptitude to appease the master While you danced around the wizard in robes but the children had no faces
The spectrum gave way to the memories of childhood despair The dying chair and the wooden man that beat against dun windows Mossy branches were groping hands that felt the insecurities and I lay bare in mourning winter air
Still those whistles sing for fallen queens that litter stray beds The misguided steed in the blacksmith's den, asking for another fix and the inanimate table that miraculously walked away They were all there in my vivid nightmare But you were safe in the rubber box built by nimble giants and your mother cried alkaline tears
It was cursed pain that you felt But the horses of your marriage fled for the fields and you were left there in Novosibirsk With a silver coin pressed to your chest And I, lay lonesome in Saratov 'neath the blackening skies On a wall in Kryty Square
Ваш серое платье пели гимны из греховной патриотов