Текст песни Евгений Свищёв - Крымские каникулы

What could be the gray of the January Crimean Night,
asphalt stretched under the melting snowball?
Broken road to all the creature prophesies
Chaotic patches with walking stitch.

What can be wonderful flying water,
What the cereal of oatmeal falls into the hood,
while holding a string at the stop
People, whose bus came up?

Inaccurative noise, native, like habit,
Easy, illuminates the hole in the navel of the earth
the one that fell shot down by flying to the south of the bird,
Left in the Black Sea, like a ship on Melie.

Glowing wool night January Tucents,
You would now be hounded on the TV
and run on the air, stress you bed,
How do Naples Khokoli yoully.

What could be more dawn at the station
bus - the latter, which is not frozen,
how the word in the throat is that at all did not say
How is the cross on the chain - a cross over the graves?