Текст песни Фото - Бедовая

If the animals are singing under the bell
And lie in plain sight,
That and the music pulls portage
On the ninth fret
Two minor, the flight is not coherent
The mud on the boots,
And the night will be embellished
Full of mischief

If all five speeds ago
But pretty driven,
That let the bad weather in a reply
For everyday storm
Two cotton then the pain is uneven
This life know better
And it is one flowing blood
Oh, Bedov

If the city usually does,
What do like
Gray dust zamazhet white
And to outline the limit
Two doubt cross with toe
And, as luck
And it all to wait for a table by the window
Oh, Bedov