Текст песни Елена Фролова - СЕРЫЙ КОНЬ

I take a crooked summer horse,
as I take a crump, only the sigh will end.
The white pond of your hands wants me very much
Well, what about the evening and God, and what about the evening and God?

I know that they take care of me for later,
and in the hallways where candles kiss languidly,
leave me with a brilliant coat,
raking out all the little things that are eternity,

I stand in the midst of jokes and caresses,
only the shout will fly off, only jealousy
will subside
gray horse of my eyes) gray horse of my eyes!
someone will fall in love with you and come up with oats.

Only don't trust them and don't touch them from the porch
in a quiet funeral courtyard "I love",
because on the copper money of someone else's face
I can't even buy myself sadness.

Hands fall, go home,
the undersized songs sing.
People go crazy, people go crazy
but they don't lead horses.

Again the forest is about me, he calls me a merchant,
He says he's funny and cheekbones.
But it stands like a candle over a murdered face
gray horse, gray horse of my eyes.

I take a crooked summer horse,
how bad he is! how bad he is! how bad he is!
The white pond of your hands does not want to understand
well and God?
Well, what about God?
Well, what about God?