Текст песни Мой пилотный вокал СОЛДАТ УДАЧИ - 03 РЫБА Soldier of fortune

Like fluffy, mokhnat december,
By the middle approaching.
And tomgle of snow streets
In the expectation of Christmas.

Hug your shoulders
And squeezing to you cheek.
In our last quiet evening
Amazing peace.

Choose branches of Clean.
Like a white general
Our shed sloping
Tilt
So two centuries stood
Yes, gray old man with a listed roof.

Pulp from these mills
So squeakly creak
I see a coffin, and five, and ten.
And water boilers boil.

But the rules are not at that game for all centuries.
Burst strings and columns
Marsh move to the clouds.

I have not been a junker for a long time
And the siege is not afraid.
Echo in remote
As if sound
In the wind of torque mills
Erase from the face of the earth
Our platoon infantry.

Swops of blades,
The look becomes a muddy ...
And I always
Soldier good luck.