Алкоголь После Спорта - Варик - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Was it an option not to respond to aggression with aggression?

So that later in front of the investigation you wouldn't have to defend your version?

Was it an option to think before you spoke?

Before letting her go, was it an option to look her in the eyes?

Was it an option not to let something hurtle toward the abyss slide?

And then the door was blown off its hinges, the witnesses, the search?

Was it an option not only to spend, but also to count?

Was it an option to open your own account and stop emptying other people's accounts?

Was it an option to understand what you couldn't understand?

Was it an option to wake up without a hangover and without dents?

Was it an option to become a person people are proud of?

Was it an option to avoid having a machine gun and a radio in your hands?

Was it an option to flush what you started injecting down the toilet?

Was it an option not to disappoint your mother? When her only hope was God

Was there an option to not take anything out of the house, to sell everything that could be sold?

You are still loved, and instead of a bullet, there's only an inch left in your forehead.

A gray strand, new wrinkles.

Tears stream down your cheeks for a child who doesn't want to become a man.

If you had the option to start over, would you do it all over again? Or I wouldn't have had the strength to live a second time, or I wouldn't have had the strength to live a second time, or I wouldn't have had the strength to live a second time.

And I found myself.

When life lost its spark.

To find yourself, you have to slide down, friend.

I lit the fuse and brought the canister.

And I rolled down the mountain on a two-wheeler, hands-free.

All actions are insane.

When they don't hear you, even though you scream straight into a megaphone.

Emotionless, like a corpse, the phone is silent.

As if discharged, if a person wants, he can always find a minute.

But as usual, he denies guilt, captive to his thoughts.

If only he had a chance, he would look at himself from the outside.

How can you live inside with such songs?

And I explain that I don't remember anything.

And thank goodness for insomnia, that under its watchful eye.

Notes are filled in rhymed letters.

I feel unfamiliar in a new place.

I might offend you by answering. In a rude tone

I can love and hate a person again

I don't seek happiness on the high road

Happiness is comfort and understanding in your own home

I don't know what the outcome will be

But if I had my way, I'd start all over again, I'd start all over again, all over again