Текст песни Александр Новиков - Городской роман

We play in the urban novel
With belokudroy whore.
She skripmya creaking sofa
Service cuts and soul in the morning.
Throw to - does not hurt a novel
tempting.

But there is something in them, these
Puppet curls.
Shuffles, scraping under the ribs
grinder.
So sweet in scraping the inside.

Lying plate smeared in wine
Last nerve straining.
And my coat crucified in the wall
Looking for another hanger.

Smoky voice murmurs weather,
But to slam the door does not raise a hand.
Throw it ... But her life trample
Or the horn will bend for sure.

We play in the urban novel
So recklessly and unsweetened.
And the organ-grinders under the ribs Shalmali
Voice, wheezing, yells at all habits.

Honey, screaming alarm clock, would need to leave.
But a moment Stay still deaf, blind and naked.
Yes expel you from the hateful Service
Through all the crowd will not let slip ...