Текст песни Сергей Боханцев - Разъезд

I have your tears - well, how not they are!
Rushes roses on parapet
And wait for the mail to your threshold,
Read the lines and between the lines.
I do not say goodbye, my soul,
I return to my edges.
On the third shelf always a ticket,
In a stack of needle look, my light!

I throw my fingers on a black rug,
Kolon Skaltoles in the shower
And who will pay for this sound,
And who will pick up first-hand.
And the nose is knocking for a feature.
A deck of crafts for years
Where God will give me a century
String on a stone in three roads?

So well, you do not cry, that I became indirect -
In the tilt of the mast - the price of winds.
Not to knock down the legs do not roll
Halfway on the way back.
I have your tears - well, how not they are!
Rushes roses on parapet
And wait for the mail to your threshold,
Read the lines and between the lines!