Текст песни Евгений Петрушенко - Маринованный, жёлтый рассвет...

Marinated, yellow sunrise,
Crawling on the kitchen faded,
Apartment envelope junk
And woven into the morning delirium.

And there is not a soul in the streets,
Only hear the howl of the machine
Behind the scenes of the dead pictures
Only hear the elevator floors

He counted, creeping on the shaft:
Sleepy peace again slipped to a whisper,
And if consciousness does not burst,
That tired heart came shooting out.

And ringing the curves on the lanes
Thin lines echo the failed!
This life is not dopishesh to the point,
This life is reflected booming

In each cell of the foolish world,
Where we were looking for meaning and form,
Giving increasingly Minoru
Among the joys and positive.

Well, let. I am not the best of the first.
Justice invented pants -
We like the round beads,
Only different colors and sizes.

© Evgeny Petrushenka