Текст песни Александр Дольский - Музыка над моей головой

I can hear the sounds of harmony,
and eyelids become red from crying.
As if the city hands
Christ raised the wounded.

And as the leader of the orchestra,
Father Symphony Chorus,
Maestro gives heartless
simple townsfolk holes.

And people consuming burgers,
wine drinking longing,
not hear any harp or flute,
and tea pours sand.

Ministers Russian devastation
successors false killers
the music also earless
play with the history of the blitz.

And time seems to stalemate
the progress of thought out move
preparing ill mat
muhlevschikam net outcome.

And the audience is looking at board
at the tips of losing the fuse,
and wax candles church
dripped red portal.

A music-dimensional surf
in beating people senseless
the violin, the oboe sad,
the tone of the music space.

Some of the other soloists
step on the stage of destiny,
the genius of pure poetry,
the jazz genius of the pipe.

A great son hands
accurate in the score of the Father,
but loud song nerd
It rises above the crown.

And suppresses the great harmonies
finest delicate fabric,
and thunder utility agonies
It breaks into a fresh early.

I can hear the sounds of harmony,
and eyelids become red from crying.
As if the city hands
Christ raised the wounded.