Текст песни Олег Куликов - Сезон

Sea sleeps after a drunken storm in a cold night,
And raw foliage is falling into a boiling Azov.
And the servant chrome collects keys on the bundle,
Closes the bathing, the bathing season is over.

Capacked souvenir kiosk dawn board,
Awnings removed from tents - scenar sawn sails.
And the lighthouse, like the cyclops one-eyed, lagged to longing,
And having fun, lever votes.

Only two on the beach go, felt in the sand,
From from each other at the very edge of the water.
He carries her wet swimsuit in a cold hand,
And the surf as if in terms of collusion, the traces wash off.