Текст песни Амирамов - Худший из сынов

When atone for the sins I have closed the mountain
He sat there and wrote poems of a young thief Arthur
And two lines of a swarm of words as though tossed us
I am the worst of the children you're the best of moms

You will understand everything until the end of stay with me
And knowing you're talking scoundrel son home
Do you forgive me everything without words, I also still stubborn
I am the worst of the children you're the best of moms

All life is a paradox, and perhaps absurd
That dance, the love, the box - freedom or the court
So I give up everything ready, even pity grams
I am the worst of the children you're the best of moms

That throughout stones, the sand, the water in the fire
The crowd terribly lonely, the aroma, the stink
That day, as the night, the night without dreams, his whole life in half
I am the worst of the children you're the best of moms

That katishsya of life down the rise again Do you hear
The fact of the trifle limp, and the other way around
Do not explain, I myself know all without your words
In the best of all the mothers of the children of the son of the worst