Текст песни Эдуард Данилов - Четки. Стихи Марины Чекиной

We ourselves flooded on the run
The previous mark is blurred and fuzzy.
Scattered on a taking snow
Ryabinian sorrow.

On solid ride a thread,
In the palm of collecting, as if blood drops.
Losses in themselves to connect -
The occupation is not strange and not.

I want not to torment suddenly
Meaninglessly tasty tab
On the thread of bitter memory to wear
February and March, October and December.

And since the time will not be able to reverse
Turn up - the fate of the razor is
Losses I want to sort out
Reading them like bright prayers.
* * *