Текст песни Gast - 9 марта

What are you talking about? Temperatra, blizzard, blizzard
We type each other, but we can
Revenge, resentment and night - this is a demon of servants
Thoughts weave, turning gold into copper.

Copper - in the sand that flows between fingers
As time, my loneliness is entrusted
But I'm not sure that I can stay alive
In such a march, what howls, like a beast.

Nerves, walls - as usual everything, so
On the poster of felt-tip pen
I want to rain, and yesterday only the eighth of March
I will be minimized again, again I cut Bit Beat.

February pale behind, asked words
Plus heded the liver, now we treat
Fly days, more minus one
Well there is a microphone and bits provided.

Lips no longer a person, there is nothing to hide
I open the bottle - and again for the holiday
Girls, with past, leaving the sofa
This track is only one, and you are all so different.