Текст песни Лис - Полынь Я

From the fire, we fly to the hollow bare, hollow
and in the wormwood somewhere flip free, full
What are the same from us princes? Different, dirty
and pardon, alas, it is impossible - Shah and Mat, brother

The world saves beauty again, and not so
and the damn feature is not in yourself and not with him
We collect stones slowly, not breathing, not smeasing
will be the evening of the morning of the morning - the holy simplicity

without a pond will not work and work is cold, hungry
herself heavy hammer - green-young
In the yard plays a defortion - Dryn-Grass, Tryn-grass
This is our cheerful worst - here's a cross