Текст песни Контора - Покойник

Surrises autumn rain, disgusting dampness
Oh, you are a mad cloud, get out, make mercy.
How are you all a sick, already a shower crawling out of the body,
And falls on the lick to us to hope for God.

Somewhere music plays, the melody is sad,
I'm not the funeral march I was heard by chance ..

Unfortunately, I was not mistaken, there the dead are carrying
And the old woman wipes with a cheek clean tears.