Слова:
Karate Pockets

Capsize, tired eyes Collapse into clean sheets, Martinized By bored friends' mothers who feed to release Their trust in kids and adult defeats Home fries

Reticent she returns to the streets Where she once floated above in hospital sheets Hands on the walls where small handprints still weigh With the burden

Down the street I'll park the car You go ahead Meet me inside There's no reason for us to both go through with it On the way I'll call about this guitar

down to get you even though you don't answer Because the snow was OK, but the rain is coming faster Water sinks in Faster, then thickens My pockets are