Текст песни Posternak — Кофейное Зерно

Оригинальный текст и слова песни:

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stored all
It falls to the ground seed,
functioning of new plant
two-year young greens
dark hand
It collects burden of red fruits,
fingers
removing the pulp of berries coffee plantation

at the beginning of the green separated from the shell
innocent get
millions of scorched beams
humidity of eleven and a half
in the morning simple trick
bags propping his shoulders to carry the jetty,
loaded into the hold

destroyed when the air
earth remains
along the paths of shepherds
travels grain

a world torn apart along the horizon
to agree on the coffee beans cup

Further, somewhere in Italy
topped up with a taxi driver from the pot,
continued midnight italics
drives up the priest,
the truth is hidden in the sleepless coffee grain
especially when on ground night

Mr. shakes Night Express,
on rails dropping espresso drops
the yellow press
coffee beans in the middle of
the night is filled with weight
is about to crack the old French-Press

and if
the waiter drops the dish in half-empty in the suburbs
it flies into pieces
in a crowded coffee shop in New York
sypyatsya grain on the bar,
someone wants to sleep, but with each shelf
Rings universe grinder
and this call is not silenced
and this call is not silenced

Las Vegas, casino, all the luck falls zero
dealer so as not to fall asleep chewing coffee beans
that was imported from the previous day
waiters do not remember a confused picture
yesterday tables, the amount of
tips, stories nedoslushannoy
precipitated link, alas, coffee bean
in the center of Moscow
burned board
glass can neither hide,
or recreate
former explosion of milk Lattes

Amsterdam, transvestite show,
someone comes out of the coffeeshop
slaked with eyes under the hood
through sending a whisper of grain
to bend the ear lobe, never known earrings
Old Isergil swallowing lizergin
She tells the instructions to heart
if you can not see does not DIG

nurtured in the summer
to die in the winter
Six parts of the world
all seven continents
fit into a single coffee bean

night. cinema. Morocco. black-and-white movie
projectionist believe in God, faith in caffeine
Rome. Mocha cooled down. morning air
spleen. buttons knock knocks on screen Fin

night. cinema. Morocco. black-and-white movie
projectionist believe in God, faith in caffeine
Rome. Mocha cooled down. morning air
spleen. buttons knock knocks on screen Fin

the world is not more than the wide open moleskine
bending the ear lobe without earrings old woman Izergil
adhesive stamps in the county town Lizergin
where, scattering dust era
in hotel rooms turns the screw
is forgotten in the kitchen boiling coffee

coffeemakers noise, grain crosses the equator
man gently sedately
He is looking for the cause of the universe in the depths of the foam
surface Cappuccino
imagining a different guise

where someone drinks coffee with milk
shaking hand
He writes letter line by line,

that someone finishing his coffee with milk
shaking hand
prints line by line,

about that forever and ever
ever
universe only Turk in the fingers boron

it is made
sixty Beethoven grains

as usual,
while growing coffee beans
until someone writes a letter
until someone writes a letter