Текст песни 7 Раса - На качелях

We flew to hell clouds at high speed
I knew what would happen in the fall,
The eyes and my hair vytsvetut, and your
Will black with gray ..
How painful throat is compressed in the fall,
What a pity, but I have forgotten how to cry,
And not being able to express all these words, fell ...
He fell all over in the autumn slush ..

I'm on a swing on a swing ... I ...
I'm on a swing on a swing ... I ...

Computer calculations were incorrect,
The red-yellow fires burned last summer,
I cough your windows knocked in the room,
Yes, I became superstitious, maybe ...
And people continue to believe in holidays,
For bread crumb without seeing more,
The gravestone inscriptions so little,
Not a real pity, pity illusory,

I'm on a swing on a swing ... I ...
I'm on a swing on a swing ... I ...

I'm on a swing on a swing ... I ...
I'm on a swing ... I am on a swing on a swing ...