Мутно

ak :
Floor of the sixth , rattles sleepy town wagons
out of home , avoiding people with epaulets
besides these buses and taxis passing near sluggish headlights shine
by garbage markets closed bars
along the wet sidewalks with fumes , lack of sleep , creaking boots
then catch the rhythm of the old newspaper , the bottle bitoyu
rainbow spilled gasoline stains in pools
in them as in a mirror colored storefronts
flower baskets in the metro , the tray with newspapers
flashing yellow traffic light understudy dawn
language sing song yesterday turns
rain licks street sky clouds
smoked cigarette ashes falling
falling asleep on the go , I go to his house I

Keith :
night in style do not remember how much they drank
all their were a lot of talking
discussed that there with us on the program will be further
without looking at the clock , not tomorrow weekdays
argued themselves hoarse laugh until hiccups
jokes, car , motorcycle , bicycle , photo, film, video , radio , hunting and something else
can not remember right Mazu juicy , look drowning in tobacco smoke
Doggystyle with neighbors - how else
evening was careless creature speech
and seemed endless, though eternal
list of songs made ​​trifle census
volume of the music has moved increasingly narrow walls
Time was ticking , noting MiGs joy
that's all that in mind in the morning left

screw:
finishing his beer in the first metro train from Autazavadski
look out the window to Kolomna
see houses sails over the Moscow River
the southern terminus of the river , tube dozilovskie
Luba - road road native county
sleepy food to the house to grab holiday
morning air mixture breathe easy
exhale rhymes output exhalations
yesterday apparently drank cool head ache
acutely feel the fresh air stream
noises of the city listening, though better
music composers old and under a sweater
heart rhythm pulse entering the knocks
far in the chest like and feels home
Behold, the house , opened the door with a key
took off his shoes , and some sleep after a party

MF :
as sometimes wish that the night is not over
but when I was on the streets Sutra
bursting with feeling proud native walls
would remove the cap on before the Soviet space
that sits on a horse , all he good
and thank fate that I abandoned here
between seven hills skewed new buildings
back to drinking, meet Zorka
so do not sleep that fell down to
if not absorbed incredible beauty
unspeakable words, the more numbers
clean after the rain , near and dear
go home , driving foot puddles
wet , chilled , tired, still sushnyak
beggar with money , did not sleep , perebuhal
All true, but all then - now nishtyak