Текст песни Полумягкие - Март

Spring- time poetry ,
We throw the words do not disdain .
I just got tired of sitting on the ground.
We must get out of the mud and burnt tin.
Clear sense moldy .
Write a couple of new songs alone,
Or dialogue anyway .
Rejoicing warm and familiar phrases ,
I wander along the promenade .
And it does not let it and dirty it Volga .
But all the same way as a memory ...

Evening Moscow and maze of lights and streets on the coloring