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Друзья, для тех, кто в личке просил еще немножко ИЗ РАННЕГО.
RHYMES FOR THE QUEENS
Well, if the world's a small ball in the soccer of the Gods
And the reasons for our seasons are the fancy of the Lords,
Then why must I care for the essence of my trip?
Better pray the Lord my soul to keep.
But if the Almighty is out to have some beer,
Then what the hell are we doing here?
Outside the window there's a fresh november snow,
The morning air awaits us with million paths to go.
Who dares to challenge the unequal?
Some laughter cracks the sky
It mock all your intentions, while you still wonder why.
The demons may surrender, or fool you anytime,
We pawns may have our prose, but queens, they need the rhyme.
Well, when I first saw that girl she was up in the high skies,
Drifitin' on the tender breeze and eating french fries
"The room at the top" they call it I guess,
I asked "What's the reason for such a success?"
She said "I'm an angel catcher, I'm catching angels as they fall,
They're bored up there in heaven, they hate to pay that toll"
"A tough job, man" and once again she stared at cloudy cell
"But I once knew a guy, a demon, who said it's dull in hell..."
Who wants to live forever is a pretty wicked man, you know
But patience is no burden for such a way to go,
I'd love to see him in the end if there's the end of time,
But pawns may eat their prose and queens....
Queens they need the rhyme!
Well, what I need is love and now I'm out to get it,
Ask waters as they flow if there is one for me?
Ask rivers, ask the brooks, ask seas if they can see it,
And years by the ocean my eyes still search for thee.
I need the suit to fit my size but I can't get no tailor,
I need my own sweet realm with fences firm and high,
Where I can sing and love and drink away my lifetime
And never need a change like folks up in the sky.
Who's longing to be happy underneath the moon,
Who's looking for the love to last,
Who has his own tune will sure find the rhyme,
Like queens of old did in their distant past.
A.K. (c) 1992
BY Антон КЛИМОВ
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