Читать книгу Стихи и лирика 2.0 - Николай Шабуневич, Николай Александрович Шабуневич - Страница 29

In the middle of nowhere where nights are always short

Where bread is always stale and the rules are made of dirt

Where doors have no keys cause there’s nothing to steal

Where rooms are always vacant cause there’s no one to live.

Where instead of «good-byes» we’re having today

Tomorrow you’ll have a farewell smile

Like a long-service soldier who has dreamt of a place

To find only ruins of his hometown

At the middle of nowhere where nights are always melting

Where time is not a gift but a boiler from hell thing

Where soul is a product to be oversold

Holding on means that you have nothing to hold.

Cosmopolis is erasing my boondock away

At the middle of nowhere at the bottom of hate

I swapped my own freedom for the discount in a store

To be sure in future coming out the door

That tomorrow someone to be laying in bed

Will sleep away the minute to death

Some young intern to falter his knife

Someone will gun down his cheating wife