Текст песни 27-ой километр - Трава

I began to see life like a dirty stream
Through cotton windows and liquid sand.
On muddy moments in a shabby hour
Through the time cloud sprinkles on us.

By the will of the wind - the magnitude of the wave.
And you breathe on the walls of the wall.
The stone is not thrown, and the circles went.
Once the volley should give one, give three!

You may not understand
My words,
But with us pouring spots
Washed not rain, but herb!

Over the rod walls - a shaky comfort.
Who is eternity cherishes, forever beat.
For loud phrases - a quiet lie.
The more you have, the less you live.

We see only what you can watch.
But where there is a valor, always next to flattery.
But, if you still decided to swim for the buoy,
Mahni on your hand and went away everyone!

You may not understand
My words,
But with us pouring spots
Washed not rain, but herb!

(Alexander Frolov)