Текст песни Бивни - Шоссе

Highway devoid of the end,
Driven into the horizon,
I settled down on the bill
Disrupt the brakes,
Pedal pressed brick,
Steering wheel crushed foot,
Flies curved distance
Starry duoy second-Ooi!

The engine cuts a jig,
And vёrsty like a book,
Leafs speedometer easily.
And as a way of life
For native threshold
And that's fine ...
Holy thing the way home!

Through the empty field,
Through the empty region,
I fly to where he chose
In his old age to die.
Where three birch under the window
Increased the size of a house,
Where from the housing and to housing
Kilometers hundred-o-oo!

During the first snowstorm,
And berry rotten
What April? Winter ...
Lead was given,
Taiga in the Urals ...
And the years - details ...
Details of a difficult fate.

Flying is not throwing gas
Ahead star
I podmignёt once again,
As if calling there,
Where clouds in the evening
Like cranberries color.
I had to wait for years,
And a day to fly!

The engine cuts a jig,
And vёrsty like a book,
Leafs speedometer easily.
And as a way of life
For native threshold
And that's fine ...
Holy thing the way home!

During the first snowstorm,
And berry rotten
What April? Winter ...
Lead was given,
Taiga in the Urals ...
And the years - details ...
Details of a difficult fate.