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Пропил поэт вином французским Талант на склоне лысых лет. Теперь он носит брюки узкие. Да вот ни слова утром, ни пол-слова на обед. Это все обо мне.:) В последние годы в основном пишу музыку к текстам некоторых талантливейших поэтов. Как сюда попасть

The Younger Me

I'm searching for the younger me, Together we'll survive. The person that I used to be Has ruined all my life. I wish she helped me understand What's hidden in the lies, What demon forced her to pretend And play a lover twice. I wish she had a chance to know One story of heartbreak Is better than quick love on show, Her hero was a fake. I'm writing to the younger me, The letters may be lost, But words will find the addressee One day at any cost. "Remember, we were seventeen And you could love despite The distance, waiting and routine, And that's your secret might. You talked to loved ones in your dreams, You saw a secret sign, And that was love beyond extremes, Sincere and pristine. Embraces on the dirty floor At late December nights, One kiss that made you long for more And blurry city lights... Remember it... what have you done? You've left it all behind. I could be you, we could be one, But I'm a different kind".
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