Текст песни Алексей Еремеев - Кода

And preparing for death -
 in the tales of death is not.
Outside the window flew
 flock of sad missiles.
And in heaven I want virgins
 and incense smoke,
In reality gnaw each other's throats,
 believing the words.

I have a cigarette
 and almost mess
But rockets fly,
 Locked attic.
During the years that he lived,
 not amassed anything,
So almost free,
 Almost ready! ..

And there are bitter people
 in the semi-dark houses,
Social networks, illusion,
Loneliness, fear.
I have tired
 and rusty strings,
A couple of e-mails about old age
And photos of Fortune.

Disobedient horses
 run away in the morning,
And on the ancient icon
 one holy smokes grass.
Here such here a fairy tale,
 Here's a twist.
Someone wants to interchange
 from unseen heights ...

But the thunder strikes,
 The fire did not burn,
Because there is no
 Unseen heights.
All the chords on the strings
 someone has played.
Since Play is still a musician,
And forsake pedestal! ..