Текст песни Мертвий Півень - Етюд з воронами

There is so much unreal in this world,
We are looking for a solid earthly foundation.
December beer near the cathedral (2)
And the gray day mughes the boss-new.

Thaw like a tear over the city,
Buses come and go.
And in our mugs of painted clay (2)
Sways bitter amber filing.

We were so eager for this warmth
Like the frozen sprout of grapes.
Crows are these little black angels,
A black council is convened on the pediment.

And the snow melts, in which it is so mixed,
Sand and salt are heavy earthly measures.
And we breathe heat in cold mugs (2)
And let's see how they have black wings