Текст песни ГАФТ - Дело привычки

Speed ​​a bird,
Fucking the AT feather
With rustle flies in milk
Arrow.

To the ancient pine a student
Smiling baby smile
Old man.

MY WILL PASSED
Of the year,
And to die
No one is used to.

Smiling baby smile
Old man,
And the bird flies.

This is a matter of habit,
Simple algorithms inscribed in blood
Matter of habit!
We do not understand each other without words.

Come on the tram familiar
To me
In the morning milk fog
Fly
Towards the sun, and maybe
Paradise.
Late?
I will not be late!
We must go in advance
At the right time
In the right place
Needed word
In an unnecessary song.

This is a matter of habit,
Simple algorithms inscribed in blood
Matter of habit!
We do not understand each other without words.