Текст песни Михаил Колоземцев - Небо с овчинку

The pupil stuck into the object of lust,
The woody throat broke the fast to the cry
Painfully funny ticklish disposition
He jumped up on his face with soreness.

And over your head
Immensely ripe
The sky is like a sheepskin ...

Succulent depleted hands
Eagerly and hotly tormented the air,
A double-edged path
Intricately flashed in the distance.

And over your head
Ruthlessly ripe
The sky is like a sheepskin ...

Behind the stained glass windows of naive words lurked
Lifetime stigma, death masks
Their quirky outlines now and then
Proceed with another song ...

But overhead
Still ripe
The sky is like a sheepskin.