Текст песни Вадим Фомин - надежда

Olsha there are no great feed, but there are gallery slaves in excess
No idea, and hell with her - there are ropes and lamppost poles
On a cup yes, a piece of bread with oils of bridal masters
Michit epoch on broken heating, and blurred wasteland

Michit of the era to brave toast in a cleaned sip under pancakes
According to Cherviv, according to the passages of an immense stolen country
on the arms of the icons, and hacking on a whip
According to unwritten laws and the tested backyards of being

So beyond the hope of empty sorted tanks
Aspiring in the sweetest, member hungry pupils
With each new memorial prayer, with each fresh dead
You fly, fly, hope, over the rotten, peasive porch