Я умер и засмеялся
Poor Yorick
дневник заведен 05-05-2007
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28-02-2009 23:11 The song of the patient “N”
Forwar and backward, and forward, and backward
I close eyes and swing universe over my head
I lift the skies up to the height of my arms
And I crumple the soil and trousers in lumps.

GET ME OUT OF MY HEAD

Sounds, and voices, and music in fancies –
The hearing replaces my all other senses:
Hear water, hear walls, I hear wafting of wind
And in words, that they say me, I seek hidden hint.

GET ME OUT OF MY HEAD

Repeat and repeat it again and again..
I don’t know what it is: either prayer or spell,
And I wait for the morning for voice become still..
They will never believe me that I’m not ill..

GET ME OUT OF MY HEAD
THERE’S NO BIRTH AND NO END………
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