Текст песни Александр Решетников, Яна Стахеева - восковая свирель

Wax pipe
Zamusolila lips
On the horizon in April
Down slipping through the pipes.

Bitter-sugary taste
Poluvzdohe in mid-sentence,
It's not even sadness,
And konesno without conscience.

It's not even crying,
And what do I care
Before that I was a doctor,
And what are you sick?

Maybe more, and go to sleep,
Without clothing, and shelter.
As always - in spring
There is no normal.