Текст песни Елена Калинская - Обида

Like, not Friday the thirteenth,
But the air is saturated with wonders.
Because of all the resentment corners staring
Red-eyed traffic lights.

Get out of the holes wild,
Fists head compresses,
A moon spits on the wall highlights,
And flying in the darkness of a flock of crows.

Here, long ago circled the pigeons,
Everywhere were green grass,
But the offense came out of the hole
Black soul and breath poisons.

"It is not good-bye!" - Screams in the dark toothless,
To settle the feud between lyudom,
Stomp your feet, nose squelching
And hearts are wrapped in shackles.

And people go to the wild fury,
Forgetting that said the God.
Anyone who does not forgive another weakness,
It will not be forgiven once, too.