Вторник, 12.12.2017
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Seventh chapter (Mike Naumenko)
You'll come to me exactly at midnight, you'll wake my sleeping bell.
You'll say to me, "What a wonderful night!" I will reply, "Yes, but I'm lonely."
And I'll brew you fresh tea and I'll get the wine from the bar
And I'll turn off my television, not having time watch the movie.
We'll talk about beautiful things, play with words like in billiard,
And you'll build me a hundred air castles and one small zoo...
But, alas! I know that I ought not to believe all thy words –
Words mean to you more than affair, but it's nothing – I sinned this myself.
You'll say that life – it's a great thing and you'll give away "seven" for ace,
And I will play you my rock 'n' roll and I will sing you a new blues…
And, of course, you'll praise me and I'll smile you in reply –
"I know, us it's hard understand each other, but you're polite and I'm not angry".
And when over window daybreak will gleam, I will say, "Is it not time us to sleep?"
And I will lay myself on the floor, and I will put you on the bed.
And here at last when I will fall asleep, after quieting predawn tremble, 
You'll stand up, and you'll smile like an angel and you'll thrust me into the back your knife
And you'll wipe blood from the blade and you'll lie to sleep... And in a dream you'll see yourself...

And in the morning I'll get up first, I will prepare coffee and a cake,
I will put T-Rex, and a sprightly major chord will wake you.
And after drinking your coffee you'll go away to somewhere, after waving hand me at parting,
And I'll wash off blood from parquet and I'll find my peace of mind.

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