Текст песни ЛТП Ойкумена - Серый блюз

Turn in the clouds, Zahmelev from Freedom
Well only selected creatures of heaven,
Well, I turned out to be a segregate breed.
Wings in the oven, soul in a crate, body with beer on the chair.

Chorus

Oh it's gray blues
My sulfur life.

From thousands of snacks of various kinds
My life prepared a lean dish.
Wife Treplet nerves, work - deck.
Friends, too, somehow: "Where to get away?"

Chorus.

Swelling the soul, the seed raised,
Drinks are simpler, rustic, but take.
Black and white dreams, shortwood,
Tobacco instead of incense, alcohol, like a fir.

Chorus.

Empty eyes and hands as a whip,
I have a dried drop on a turbid glass.
Erase me, I dream of death
How dreams of spring flower about warm.

Chorus.