Stairway is here.
Nine steps to sacramental door.
And inside - Russian oven and guest passing the night.
Two don't sleep. Two swallowing wheels of love.
They feeling good. Should we break their rest?
1 AM. Night is creeping as a snake.
Near the lamp death leaned to write a new line.
Two don't sleep. Two are taking a love drugs.
They feeling good. Should we break their rest?
Nothing to wait.
Nobody to believe.
Icon is in blood.
Next to regimental HQ guard froze in ice limp.
But two don't sleep. Two are smoking love weed.
They feeling good. Should we break their rest?
If I know how difficult is sleeping alone.
If I know my future - I would exit to a window.
Life goes on.
Moscow is boring and Crimea is rainy.
And all is good. And that two people sleep for long time.