Болховитин Александр Павлович The Thought

Deep thoughts, but the core is plain
You run from a man’s heart like it’s fire and pain
Your hatred’s a shield, you wear it with pride
But is there a reason? Or just shit-talk inside?

Why this life – non‑stop drama and fights?
What’s in your head when you blow out my brain?
The man’s on the floor, he’s lost all his lights
While you draw up plans for a bridge in the rain

Always control – “wrong move, wrong tone
Think like I tell you, breathe not your own
Tell me, is marriage your enemy? Why?
Or do you just love this slow, poisoned rain?

Marriage’s a dead end – its value’s been chewed
New motives, new worlds, not a single old clue
What the hell crawled inside you, my friend?
Some brand‑new game that pretends to be true

And marriage pops like a bubble in air
A thousand years or a day, it’s all the same
Where’s the idyll, the love and respect?
Look – it’s work, an endless, aching flame

But you, this new generation, see only the crack
Easier to break than to build a bridge back
So who is the enemy? Answer me now
Or keep living hollow – I’ll show you how