Текст песни панк фракция запорожских распиздяев нищеебов - опавшие листья

I am waiting for change as Viktor Tsoi in the distant eighty ninth
Sharing tobacco on a piece of an old newspaper with notes about terroristrates
in France
Remembering how my fingers fell into you
and then walked to you your coffee without sugar
We never went to you for the city
did not plan the tree and did not see the seas together
Now they hug dips, and I have a sleeping area
I turn the road and wait for the strike face about the glass
I am surrounded by your image by stricters unwritten poems
I scor the wall with nails, the head of spam and dreams about the paradise
Alan Moore says it's not worth playing if you know what to lose
But I all hope to click on the restart and start it again
But all my letters fall on the floor as fallen leaves Rosanova
All my written off notebooks, loneliness and torn jacket -
these are my fear and longing in the city of metallurgists
And while rich people continue to eat animal corpses for lunch
This city and all its inhabitants poison plants pipes
Last year's snow melts where Lenin was previously stood
I dream of you, like Gabber about the coolest rubbish on the rave

etc.
Throwing as coal all letters in the fire
I buy a ticket for the last money
And while people devour the car
I worry in a minute thousand years

when presidents will die and fashion will change
We will meet again - no matter or you
will say the first word -
Then the plants will explode
And in Zaporizhia, bridges are completed (x2)

At dawn, the city is empty, he fell
No people
Nine-fitting will be scanned as teeth in the sun
Wait for the tram, anticipating the route to the new world
But longing for you and attachment are still kept behind the ass!
I remember all our days spent together in bed
When
I did not need to go somewhere, I did not need money
Trembling fingers and bright curls whose things
No better in the light of the light / my heart
My workplace is more like a warm booth in which
I'm looking forward to the faithful dog, but still hiding from your cold
In a fleet of time, life breaks out of the soul of our bright memories
Their wind lies and
They are dying
And for nothing to gather in a bunch
As "fallen leaves" Rosanova
Instead, cry in a cold bed
Or falling on the way home
From gopniks / dissolve with heads in a blanket / morning
Yielding to the rapid instinct of pussy to work

When the moment comes
And I will brag work - time will stop
And you can't tell me no
We will sit with you on the last trolleybus
Having rode from Moscow hope to meet the dawn