Текст песни Олег Скобля - Ваше Высочество

I'm going to hand
Warm tears of rain ...
You do not touch my soul,
Do not tempt you me:
I'm not tired of life -
From loneliness,
So do not waste
In vain words, Highness ...

O Lord, glory to Thee! Publicans, sing with me:
"Be merciful to us and call in the sky follow thee ..."

Correct someone said:
"At the time you have to leave."
I mangled a lot of firewood
Because of the madding crowd.
In the sky above the plant thunder
Like a prophecy:
I will always
I leave Christ out of loneliness.

O Lord, glory to Thee! Sing, harlots, to me:
"Fall and forgive our Call for himself ..."

In the sky, the Supreme Judge,
He is to slaughter not more likely -
We separated the fate,
Instead of his sentence.
Knows Heavenly Father
All our arguments,
The cold night of lonely hearts,
Long Goodbye.

O Lord, glory to Thee! The monks sing with me:
"Be merciful to us and call in the sky follow thee ..."