Текст песни НОМ - Москвич

muscovite

When the blood in the twilight of sunset
Kremlin turns pink brick,
The curves of the Arbat lanes
A black Muscovite.

Past Christmas eyes of traffic lights,
Naughty steering wheel, steering wheel,
He moves in darkness spore
And hums: crushed! Crushed!

There will not be a long time to think,
Running on the wet grass,
You'll never forget,
If you met him in Moscow.

Long will dream Pretoria
And Cape hunting lights eye
Yes bald furious birds,
And bathed in blood fangs!

... Buried in the dark corners,
Silently, ferocious, like an owl,
Until the morning sharoebitsya hollow
Native black Muscovite.