Кидалт - Здания - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Drops trickled from the rooftops, I looked at the puddles, the gray sky was invisible.

Under the arches of the buildings, I crumble into pieces and freeze in the cold.

I will plant a cold banner in your heart.

Let the days fly by and flicker like lamps.

Collecting bombs from lines and detonating volleys.

And you all reach out to the collector of knowledge.

And he stands with a notebook and draws the shadows of buildings.

Drops trickled from the rooftops, I looked at the puddles, the gray sky was invisible.

Under the arches of the buildings, I crumble into pieces and freeze in the cold.

I will plant a cold banner in your heart.

Let the days fly by and flicker like lamps.

Collecting bombs from lines and detonating volleys.

And you all reach out to the collector of knowledge.

And he stands with a notebook and draws the shadows of buildings.

These are my lines that I keep in my notebook.

Secrets will hide me, I'm traveling to them in a dark train car.

The days of the week have flown by, the weekdays have flown by.

I'm still here, but people don't see me.

I pick up a camera and divide life into takes.

This is the emerald city, but Goodwin won't give my heart.

I'm walking somewhere into the distance, rain trickling down the fabric.

I've stopped trusting people, they spam me so often.

I keep hiding letters among the notebook cameras.

I ask myself, am I an original or a cover?

The rain is falling again, I look at the puddles.

I look at my reflection, praying for my soul.

I don't give concerts, but you still expect a miracle.

I only write my lines, I'm not alien to anything else.

I would run after the latest fashion to please your ears, but I don't need that.

I want to heal your souls, I'm back in touch here.

The dogs are foaming at the mouth, but I know who among the thousands of people who still believe me.

I'm saturated with this, it's my drug.

But while I'm looking at the floors, photographing them with my cell phone,

I've noticed more than once how difficult this world has become.

This is poetry, my friend, this isn't fashionable drool.

I write these lines, scribbling knowledge with the sources.

I collect words piece by piece, these are my buildings.

A million nights have passed, a million pens have been filled.

I cut samples at night and write about clouds.

I'm saturated with this, this is my knowledge.

These letters out the window, these are my buildings.

I can't see anything, the windows are fogged up.

The pressure in my veins is back again, where are you, my doctor?

I'm walking along the rails somewhere, throwing leaves into the sky.

And I've been cutting my fingers in my notebooks, my retro style.

You won't see my eyes, I'm like the shadows of the trees.

I'm holding myself in check, the presence of faith within me, and these leaves, carried by the warm wind, won't give us answers to more than just questions.

Buildings flash past, rich in the sky, I'm thankful for everything, my homes warm the city.

Our country, Russia

Drops trickled from the rooftops, I looked at the puddles, the gray sky was invisible

Under the arches of the buildings, I crumble into pieces and freeze in the cold

I will plant a cold banner in your heart

Let the days fly by and flicker like lamps

Collecting bombs from lines and detonating volleys

And you all reach out to the collector of knowledge

And he stands with a notepad and draws the shadows of buildings

Drops trickled from the rooftops, I looked at the puddles, the gray sky was invisible

Under the arches of the buildings, I crumble into pieces and freeze in the cold

I will plant a cold banner in your heart

Let the days fly by and flicker like lamps

Collecting bombs from lines and detonating volleys

And you all reach out to the collector of knowledge

And he stands with a notepad and draws the shadows of buildings