Текст песни Роман Стрельченко - Граф

Your songs are not about me in the rustle of herbs
I can see you on the horse stole your graph
Pouring wine, crumpled bed like he is wrong
There will be a blower and I don't care that he is a graph

For the blade is indifferent, he chops,
Closed the circle of mourning feature,
Be with me and he will not destroy me
In a difficult hour, heart be with me

Not until the merry will be me, not to fun
In this someone else's party, where the graph rules,
The servant is already boiled the potion the potion,
In my back my hundred knives sharpening your graph

Stupidity is and nonsense, I know myself,
Only ladies eternal vow to sad eyes,
There are no titles, well, let's just imagine
I am a person, and it is always more than the graph