.Nebo zatjanuli plotno tuchi
Holodno segodnja. Hot' by luchik
Sogrev, probezhal v mojo okno.
No na ulice pasmurno I temno
Dopivaju vino, beru mobil'nyj
Vizhu sms ot svoej ljubimoj.
Ona pishet: milyj, ja tak skuchaju
Ja bez tebja zdes' odna pogibaju.
Jeto moja vina ona .
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