Текст песни Приход Святого Егорки - Даун

A thousand-year-old fern clenched in the palm
Tired angel on his shoulder spitting beer
They grabbed the ambition and not the collar
Someone was not forbidden to live beautifully again
Blood curdled and turned white before my eyes
Was like space, only through a magnifying glass
And the fool didn't write another paragraph
He was very kind, well, that is, very stupid
Closed space of dear being
Does not reflect bullet weight in the frontal lobe
When I was laughing I was laughing and not me
When he laughed, he laughed for reasons of pain
Primrose, May Day, first taste
Longing for a dead country with active saliva
Why, why is Russian music so dim
The fool could not answer. And he went to slaughter.
The fires burned mold, fame and immortality
Great country, great altars
When I turned my love on a spit
Omnipotent black leader - Obolgan Kochubey
If you want to believe, you do not want to believe. Cartridge in the chamber
Ready to wash with the tears of a Gentile
I dare to admit that for a soldier in armor
The absence of an ambush is sweeter than God in the heart
When would you know from what litter
Vomit with horror and become pacifists
All polls.
And I would become a husband. And it can be worthy.
Do not convey the meaning of the reprise to me.
What February! What people! Beautiful rustle
In the corner of cracked chances to choose
Collected a bit of gunpowder in the flasks
And the fool no longer walks. He doesn't give a shit for a long time