Текст песни Фёдоров Олег - Пожелтела моя голова

Wish my head,
Put the south of the firebird.
Feeding foliage
According to the alleys of the night capital.

I will listen to her words
When it does not sleep well,
I do not lose me more houses,
What glowing in the darkness of the society.

Von green lit night light
Longer than everyone, until the morning, happens
There is the same as me, the old man
The century is not long

Something writes for a pen in a notebook,
As if the storyteller is old-fashioned,
I would like to play him
If it was suitable for the game.

So I live for many years
Barnaul, on your palm.
Wake up to meet dawn
Observer strangers.