Текст песни Борис Циммерман - Ласточка

The songs are over, we are left silent
White bread and water from a cold teapot.
You can call friends and strike matches.
The chain is breaking, the keys will pop out of my pocket,

And they’ll fly away like money from a wallet.
Where I spend the night today is not so important to me.
Slamming, squinting, snapping that street
Where we were born, where we did not return again.

And only a stupid, funny, spring, flying swallow,
What is in my soul - to a quartz bulb.
My joy and my sorrow - all to a damn her,
She wintered winter in northern Yemen.

Swallows strike across the sky with a black net.
There is a cell for me in your black notebook
Swallow, fool, sister, blood, Netochka.
Above w / dear hope - a leaf on a branch.

So I stand and I'm afraid: I will wait, I will not wait for you?
You fly, please give, I will fall in love with you.
Prisons all over the world - fly out of the grill
Swallow that spent her winter in India.