Текст песни d-tab - а может август захочет еще остаться на часок

as the son of mother meets autumn dry leaves over the highway wind blows
looking into the eyes of passing cold cold can also burn so be ostoroshen

it looks like a puddle tears and lies and August may still want to stay for an hour
not a dream but the entire Old digest difficult for us but did not penetrate the earth you still plosskaya

frightening to know that your price tag has expired breaths smoke with oxygen in equal proportions
All these games are just a more expensive around you are right only hopelessly rights

fun at a party held overnight bowl image is blurred and clear all mene
pseudo happiness breaks us into pieces too much thinking do not know much about the people

as an option to write blogs and bestsellery know the price of what other priceless
shout about themselves to wash dirty linen in public is peculiar only to those who are weaker than the opponent

passers-by will laugh at us before the mountain is not touch their mind
Autumn put diagnos everyone and not the fact that people gain halos after the crucifixion

confused stomping feet after a fight the morning not sleep on weekdays, no water soot
hum under his breath that nebylo sad but it would give someone into the hands of art

than similar feel differently if all covered with matt film and not the skin
summer another mediocre lived by adapting to meet me cold autumn

every story is the ending that unites us because it's true
even when we cry it all happened differently but we are happy because the yes we can lie to everyone

often perceive hostility questions answering machine will give out false information
and who will save you from the forbidden herb soon someone will understand that the Ministry of Health was right

         burns inside and the heel is not the fact that a long journey collect belongings
no provisions but deprovymi notes all so familiar but pleases the eye

Stifle your cries bubbly can cheer for guests are not punched life
who is comforting himself empty toys showing off to neighbors that the house all by Feng Shui

conscience hurts hurts burn it as no blush at the glowing nis
everything on the shelves to place one more nonsense as we are to meet the desires and troubles

I before the days left on the tape in the shuffle people tend to believe
empty speech singing the screen minded pawns wisely taught eternal life

   all bathed in watercolor smoke a last effort to breathe forces are no longer
while unlikely to change this city where every farmer shouts mongrel bitch Oporto