And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace
And a wound that will never heal
No prima donnas, the perfume is on
And old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey
And goodnight to the street-sweepers,
The night watchmen flame keepers
And goodnight to Matilda too.
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Витя, а ты об Эдинбурге ( про Эдинбург?) напишешь?
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А про Эдинбург писал ведь уже.
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