Текст песни Алексей Витаков - Вийон

I became rich in that night, as if the duke,
Although my pocket is a solid hole.
I wiyon overlooked my heart.
He robbed me for it.

Only phrase it like a shot,
Ripped my poor temple:
"If the generous, do not write thoughts.
If there is noise, and paper is not the future. "

Candle and tavern operemp.
Who Wiyon is here, anyone will tell you.
He robbed me, so, probably
Touch this love.

Over the brow his clouds hung.
Stroke the truth with a stone between the rows:
"If the generous, do not write thoughts.
If there is noise, and paper is not the future. "

I burned the road letters that night.
Spel letters sent to the sand.
If generous - do not write down thoughts!
If there is noise, and paper is not the future.