Текст песни Дядя Го - Рождественская

This strange desire to die in your arms
It is a pitiful misery to be fire in cold dreams.
Hey you handsome crows, don't cling to your eyes.
Ah, they smelled a wounded animal with an eye in the image.

This strange desire to die in your arms.
It is the color of a dashing exile with bitter honey at feasts.
Having pulled on a ringing chain, the holy fool sang a song,
And the lucky ones guessed, and the Vladyka was numb.

The last wave of white wings over my window -
That is not white monks, then your ray is tiny.