Текст песни Луна и грош - Когда бог со скуки...

When God is with boredom is going to these places
That some there his deputy. angel or cherub
Colors directly on the peeling plaster sky blue
And looking at it with skepticism, it krutir some pen
And he adds a little bit of heat and light, but only a little, and quite a while ...

Wind barter voice wet roof on a pile of colorful birds,
On a thousand pages at the same time, opening the windows in the park under the tree
And, flying from corner to corner, it blows away the remnants of the heat,
Which in these latitudes and parallels more paper money.

These edges only dream of that heat, but in reality as luck
Do not think of a line, a word-nothing,
And God cursing beard patches holes,
Where it goes from here -So, like air from a sinking submarine
Or wine from a cracked jug.

Quietly quietly golden needle slides on the gray vinyl
Almost effortlessly,
But if anyone can hear music and then only with tin angel wings.
Up there on the on the edge, crouching just a fraction of instantaneous ...