Текст песни Слава Благов - По улицам Высоцкого

Overpriced frown
Lonely Street,
Recruited arrogance night.
She climbs into the hall
And it gets cold
Only music can help.
But as if the cold itself
Suddenly a voice explodes,
And the familiar hoarseness,
It spreads in the room
And heat already. Remember
I am alive, if conscience is clear.
In the streets of Vladimir Vysotsky,
In the labyrinths of memory
Without fear and hysteria
Steps to heaven,
Where's column is not flashy,
BZ raznotsvetnou graffiti,
In a modest skvereke
Sitting Vysotsky himself.
Hear songs hysterical,
the length of the endless,
What always makes us be.
You see, pure past,
But his hands do not touch him,
To make this crystal does not break.
And the windows again the night,
Where Vladimir Semenovich
The guitar playing gods.
And his words quickly,
Like a sharp blade,
Fly away to the other side.
In the streets of Vladimir Vysotsky,
In the labyrinths of memory
Without fear and hysteria
Steps to heaven,
Where's column is not flashy,
Without multicolored graffiti,
In a modest skvereke
Sitting Vysotsky himself.