Текст песни sCorThix - Скитальцы

Clouds clung to the branches of autumn trees,
People took this vision for snowfall
The white spirits dream of returning to kochevle,
But so dry and prickly like a light outfit!

The clouds sat on the wires and elektroopory
Before long, by five minutes of rest
Rusty shade buzzed about sticky hole,
About the song of the Sirens, about boiling the sweet mercury

Clouds lay down on dilapidated roofs
They lured the heat and the sound of spoons on porcelain,
they leaked in through the window slit nekleeny
A road dust still waiting for new steps

As always it is holding something, and the way a magnet
Highly stratospheric ozone layer above,
The tectonic plates deep rasschelyah
And the skull on the verge of a break-through