Текст песни Batiskaff - Оттенки сквозняков
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На этой странице находится текст песни Batiskaff - Оттенки сквозняков, а также перевод песни и видео или клип.
Через это стекло все в полосках, и повсюду случайные помехи. Надо будет поправить антенну. У меня мания - чем больше я поправляю антенну тем лучше все видно и слышно. И нету больше комнаты, я что то перещёлкнул. Откуда то встрепенувшаяся музыка становится четче слышима, различимы голоса, вибрации звуковых паттернов, с деревьев летят жёлуди и секунда становится ночью. Щелк.Песок забился в сланцы, режет палец ноги. Настольная лампа зажглась. Щёлк. Вот! теперь опять комната. Опять молчание, через некоторое время снова журчание и высокий звук, внутреннее ощущение давления психического комка, оно не больное но толкучее, тянет куда то, и это куда то часто оправдывается результатом. Щелк. Иногда видно сквозь пальцы тот единственный огонь в жизни, у которого приятно будет сгореть, иной раз я вижу кубик льда лежащий где то под кроватью, и он своим холодком приятно перестраивает мысли в бок. Щелк. Такие вот состояния. Вдруг опять солнце, жжёт и приятно давит теплом спину. Все эти кожурки и смятые бумажки ощущений забываются словно они проходили под пластиковой пленкой, и вспоминаются тоже легко, одергивая её. Все внешнее отражается от экрана и идет обратно, а Drowsiness ... Tableware in films about ordinary people. Tablecloth accurate, but hanging out there then here your detailed excesses . Table right middle of the bright rooms with white curtained just did the manner of tablecloths. everyone in this room wide : dlinnny and shelving , prolonged and raspy domesticated , occupying the entire wall of the entrance and up to the window , and a table and even a few bulky stools. A window with peeling plaster on the sides goes into the outer life , with its branching crown but shares the same day , where the shoots and fruits hanging on them are personal rust each : illusions fears and dreams , all the silly earth but temporarily perfect. I was distracted by external, when here, inside the walls just enough to describe the intoxicating , the more it comes from , in a certain way, an unusual source . The whole room , and even clocks hanging from the ceiling above the bed and a cast-iron counterweights on chains look like fuzzy , comma , butoh is missing important pieces . They are then connected , docking at the edges , then pass through each other mutating and trembling as dead leaves on the dark water . Peering - is becoming clearer and clearer that everywhere there is what that band , and the sound is distorted , as if we are sitting in the box and look for this silence in an ornate swimming glasses. And so , day after day . We sit and watch the rustling of the room , we listen to a flying and clinging to the sun's rays - dust. She says something important on fish language , and endless eternity interrupted by pauses . Someone's slippers under the brown table, piled dead tree on a background of light green wallpaper, bristling with stalks and other plant ornament . Here we are sitting in the box , looking for all these economies , weightlessness , drowsiness, as diving hand ointment. Looking forward to : maybe not will have to open the box and someone with an ever expected a click sound opens the box , and we would get a soft brush will shake both on the excavations . Outside, everything will be as extravehicular - flickering and hurry to become than what it never was. And more often the feeling of being transferred into the world , and in a room becomes like a restless : scrapie floorboards , swaying lantern above the door and felt the rug from under the opinion that it is not present but everything. And sometimes an echo of the uncreated sound walks from corner to corner in different shades of silence. And you want all the time, looking out of the box to shout out, shout something essentially true , for example : & quot; Repetition is always different & quot; or & quot; Every day you expect from yourself of something , and when it happens - you are pleased , pulling in another pocket a crumpled piece of paper & quot ;. But to say it turns out only to himself. After all, we are in the box. And the view from here to there - turbidity, and everything seems in the past somehow pleasantly vague and recorded magnetic wire strong emotions to a floppy disk through the dirty , dull , cracked , wind , spicy, private glass.
Through this glass all in strips , and overall random noise . It will be necessary to fix the antenna. I mania - the more I straighten the antenna so it is better to be seen and heard . And there is no more room , I have something pereschёlknul . From then vstrepenuvshayasya music becomes more clearly audible , recognizable voice , vibration, sound patterns , with trees and acorns fly becomes second night. Schelk.Pesok huddled in the shale , cut toe. Table lamp lit . Schёlk . That's it! Now back room . Again there was silence , after some time the murmur and high-pitched sound , the inner feeling of a lump of mental pressure , it does not hurt but tolkuchee , drawn somewhere , and this is where it is often justified by the result . Click . Sometimes you can see through their fingers that the only fire in life, which will be pleasant to burn , sometimes I see an ice cube lying somewhere under the bed , and he rebuilds his chill nice thoughts in the side. Click . Such are the state. Suddenly there was another sun burns and pleasantly warm presses back. All these kozhurki and crumpled paper sensations forgotten if they were under a plastic film , and remembered , too easy, tugging at her . All external reflected in the screen goes back and
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