dom2
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and stupid clowns had their fun
writing heresy, weeping aloud
time passed and the clowns didn't change.
We only play SoD, they howled
but somehow, out of the corner of my eye
bugs, flaws, and opportunities for improvement were visible
and if you drink less, you can see them.
And soon, suddenly, from the shadows - people gathered
Those who could see it - HotA appeared.
The clowns, seeing it, did not burn with rage
But quietly started playing it.
Time passes, OX appears
And SoD, slowly - goes into oblivion
But those to whom it is truly dear will not end up there
And the clowns will still write heresy
Drink, party, waste time in vain
For to them, a stump is the same as the Holy Spirit
What difference does it make how one fades into oblivion?
I'm not much of a poet, maybe those who know can touch it up?This needs to be screenshotted urgently! Who knows, the author might suddenly gain literacy, or intelligence/age. And this immortal piece will vanish...
Write, Kozma, write. Write while the fire burns in your heart and loins, while your mind is untainted by stupid spelling)
P.S. "из-подтежка", "потихиньку" - Well, it's a song after all! I'll keep quiet about the meter...
