Текст песни Петя OST - Этой осенью

Nor in the soul of spring, nor the weather is clear
It does not matter to me, light or overcast.
Draw with strokes or blots
The main thing is to rip out your mouth.

And do not shout that there are urine,
Do not call first passersby to her tea.
And sit, at least a little, silently,
Until it wakes up in you the part.

That the parties did not try to hang around,
Under a smile knew how to hide sorrow.
And if suddenly a sad hour came,
She warmed as a candle in the dark.

Severe see, once abandoned,
We are looking at the peers with surprise.
Which year smoke, swing to quit.
But we are far from forty-eight.

All the time I praise God, and ask.
Instead something is easy to do.
I would fly now, not Goa and Baltiisk,
On the embankments with ships go.

There, probably, white-white seagulls,
Sailors carry on the decks of vehicles.
Now and smoke, but they promise to quit,
Now soon, here is this fall.