Текст песни Гарик Кричевский - Улицы

Native streets are abandoned
Powdered with white snow.
I came, did not wait for the day of judgment
The legs themselves brought the prodigal.

Where I lived was so fun
Where I was, we sang songs.
Only there was no blue sky
It just wasn’t, you weren’t.

My life is like a book forgotten
Like a bottle of wine unfinished.
A pile of letters, envelopes tired,
Where the words are always late.

Fated to me by someone, inscribed
Live your life, live windy.
But the wind whispered to me, lost
Come back, everything will be for the better.

Native streets are abandoned
Powdered with white snow.
I came, did not wait for the day of judgment
The legs themselves brought the prodigal.