Текст песни Юго-Запад - Шоссе

Highway devoid of end driven into the horizon ,
I calmed down about the torn brakes.
Pedal pressed kirpichёm , wheel crushed foot ,
Flies curved distance, starry arc !

Chorus:
Engine cuts jig and vёrsty like a book ,
Leafs speedometer easily.
And life is like a road to the native threshold
And that's OK , Holy thing - Way Home

Through the deserted field , through the deserted region
Fly to where he chose , in his old age to die.
Where three birch under the window, grew as tall as a house,
Where to housing and to housing, a hundred kilometers .

Chorus:
For the first snowstorm and rotten berries
What April - winter.
Lead gave Taiga in the Urals ,
A few years - the details . Details difficult fate.

Fly without resetting the gas , and ahead of a star
I podmignёt once again , as if calling there,
Where the clouds in the evening , as lingonberry color.
I had to wait for years , and look for days .

Engine cuts jig and vёrsty like a book ,
Leafs speedometer easily.
And life is like a road to the native threshold
And that's fine. Holy thing - way home .

For the first snowstorm and rotten berries
What April - winter.
Lead gave Taiga in the Urals ,
A few years - the details . Details difficult fate.