Текст песни atramentaria - просто ходить
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Смотри, ты как башенный кран, вроде бы выше всех зданий, но периметр движения столько же мал, сколь в багаже хороших воспоминаний. Крутясь и смотря в разные стороны, мы как будто бы скованы, скомканы и отправлены в мусорный бак. Ну а раз так, то терять уже нечего, будем парить в небе кречетом, будем просто ходить. И протоптав сотни миль, мы вернёмся на круги своя, в вечный штиль. Здесь нас ждут, в нашу честь зажигают фитиль, фейерверки, всё мерцает и каждый из нас знает, что всё не за зря, всё на пользу, лишь бы была возможность просто ходить. Лишь бы была возможность просто творить, для себя, понемножку, будь-то поэт, понарошку. А мы и не претендуем, мой силуэт на дорожке, что стала родною для дворника. Мне хватает улыбаться хотя бы раз, хотя бы по вторникам, главное, что без намордника.
Просто ходить с багажом за плечами, провожая пейзажи глазами, просто ходить, думать о чём-то своём, если спросят зачем, то соврём. Как уже кто-то сказал, ты не один, мы вдвоём. Просто ходить, цеплять взглядом дороги в час пик, Просто ходить, лишь бы в памяти навсегда отпечатать тот миг. Пусть и недолгий, но целостный. Just walking is like just breathing, taking yourself with your thoughts into the sky, like a shuttle, just walking, it's like just flying, only lower, even if there are no smooth surfaces in life, and locking yourself into a list of unnecessary needs, you yourself are on someone else's list ... And you can hear how the screams of abandoned buildings do not want to leave themselves in this city. You seem to be looking at them, you seem to have said something, but from what you said you only wilted. So is there any point in saying? When is the pantomime theater here? You yourself are a silent building, with many levels, floors and a basement, you have a task and the task remains small when you have a goal and a desire to just walk. And in those abandoned construction sites, the desire to live is exactly the same as in you. All have a short life, the distance from birth to sorrow. Everybody's traversed path, which you just want to kick. A journey with a capacious name life. A place where you will sprout on a whim, through the asphalt, through the frozen puddles. You are not obliged to curry favor with someone here, you will say that society has imposed it, and I will say that society has taken the hell out of it. And fuck you under your heart-rending screams. The puppets are meticulous. They can only compare, one is painted black, the other is praised, for nothing. But the measure of everything is only the dawn in winter, a bright, red-pink canvas. It’s so nice, beautiful and as if it’s warming, spring is coming, I’m standing with the wind blowing in my face.
Look, you are like a tower crane, you seem to be taller than all buildings, but the perimeter of movement is as small as in the baggage of good memories. Spinning and looking in different directions, we seem to be shackled, crumpled and sent to the trash can. Well, if so, then there is nothing to lose, we will soar in the sky like a gyrfalcon, we will just walk. And having trodden hundreds of miles, we will return to square one, into eternal calm. Here they are waiting for us, a wick is lit in our honor, fireworks are lit, everything flickers and each of us knows that everything is not for nothing, everything is good, if only there was an opportunity to just walk. If only there was an opportunity to just create, for oneself, a little, be it a poet, for fun. And we do not pretend, my silhouette is on the path that has become native to the janitor. It's enough for me to smile at least once, at least on Tuesdays, the main thing is that without a muzzle.
Just walking with your luggage on your shoulders, seeing off the landscapes with your eyes, just walking, thinking about something of your own, if they ask why, then we'll lie. As someone already said, you are not alone, we are together. Just walking, eyeing the road at rush hour, Just walking, if only to imprint that moment in memory forever. Albeit short-lived, but complete.
