Гуф - Сегодня-завтра - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

I recently started thinking about old age.

I was standing by the window and wondering, "What's it like?"

Looking at the green grass and gray smoke, I realized:

I'll be old when I'm no longer young.

It's incredibly sad that all this will ever end.

Someone will come in and turn off the light without warning.

That same feeling will set in—endless loneliness.

It seems like just now everything was there, bam, and now it's completely gone.

I've become a little scared lately.

And admitting it, to be honest, is also scary.

Sometimes my own reflection puzzles me,

And the things that used to make me happy hardly bring me any joy.

It's so nice to have someone older around. Or rather, when I'm not the oldest in the group.

It's funny when, when selling a bottle of booze, the saleswoman carefully blurts out my age in my passport. I'm happy when three moles in the underpass come up to me and ask, "Give me fifty. Hey, come on!"

Or when Sam is mistaken for my little brother. Sure, it's nice, but that's the reality.

I'm thirty-two now.

Look, by the time the CD comes out, I should be thirty-three.

Halfway there, no matter how you look at it.

But somehow, I couldn't even make a joke about it.

Well, in essence, I guess this is how things are supposed to go.

Probably neurology—the pain in my left chest.

"Stop, go somewhere, wait out the traffic,"

said the passenger, but I was riding all alone.

After all, "Today"—tomorrow will be "Yesterday," and just yesterday, "Today" was "Tomorrow."

It makes sense to wait until the morning, and only then make plans and make wishes. "Today" - tomorrow will be "Yesterday," and yesterday, "Today" was "Tomorrow."

It makes sense to survive until the morning, and only then make any wishes.

The lines appear at a cafe table:

"Alyosha began a verse in Yaposh - finished it in Oki Doki."

Salmon steak, rice, orange juice.

Vitamins, salad, and a pot of jasmine tea.

I finished the fish quickly, put some money down the drain.

I wished everyone peace and jumped into a big car.

I pulled onto Tverskaya Street, quietly cranked up some rap music.

I blew some smoke and did some arranging on my cell phone.

The house is spotlessly clean, the wife is happy,

The dog is well-fed, the nanny put the little one to bed.

I froze in the hallway: "I'm where I'm supposed to be,

Or maybe I'm needed where I'm not?"

Stuck on the couch, a burden in my pocket.

It draws, it's fragrant, it stinks. Ugh, fuck, no!

I was planning on spending a sober evening tonight.

What would I do now if I had nothing to smoke?

But Zamoskvorchye is marked on my liver.

So, as usual, I roll, blow up, and heal.

I tend to smoke on the balcony.

I get it, and it doesn't matter what part of Gufon, Big fucking Johnny.

There's a school football field underneath me -

Schoolchildren, apparently, after-school program, zero-zero, I think.

A child is screaming, traces of red on green,

He's in terrible pain, and I got a coal burn on my finger.

After all, "Today" means tomorrow will be "Yesterday," and just yesterday, "Today" was "Tomorrow."

It makes sense to wait until morning, and only then make plans and wishes.

"Today" means tomorrow will be "Yesterday," just yesterday, "Today" was "Tomorrow."

It makes sense to wait until morning, and only then make wishes.

Sitting in the dentist's chair, I'm very nervous.

My flight to Novosibirsk is at 7:30.

It's six o'clock, and I should be able to make it.

My suitcase is packed, but the doctor keeps drilling.

I decided to find out how much longer we have.

And after this question, I remembered old age again.

He adjusted his mask and said, "Just a little."

And then I got even more worked up, or so it seemed.

After all, "Today" is tomorrow's "Yesterday," and yesterday, "Today" was "Tomorrow."