Текст песни Костюшкин - Заколочена душа

Boarded up window, boarded up soul
Pain
Instead of memory - wine, like spilled wine
Salt
And the snow does not melt over the outstretched palm
Something our century is short, called
Love

What are you talking about, tell me, share your sorrow
Ivan found a bride for himself, but not Maya
Three roads, three pines, a black raven on a birch -
Hey, dashing coachmen, who is the driver today?

Harness my horses, so that only black ones
Either it became colder, or we became strangers
And the chilled soul knelt again -
Something you and I, my friend, did not finish, did not finish

And in broken crystal, disenchanted faces
To whom happiness is in hand, and to whom his titmouse
The bright red star will hide the light in ruby ​​again -
Who should love us now, if they themselves did not love?

Boarded up window, boarded up soul
Pain
Instead of memory - wine, like spilled wine
Salt
And the snow does not melt over the outstretched palm
Something our century is short, called
Love