Текст песни Игорь Белый - Карманный ангел

Who hides secrets in remote bins,
And who is under the pillow of calico,
And I do not hide in the dark -
I'm not interested lurk.
But my secret even in daylight
Nobody will ever know:
My angel lives in my pocket
And quietly playing the flute.

For more than a year in your pocket will not take
The object is heavier than a feather.
There I injected it for comfort
A needle of a sewing machine.
If rain washes off the city lights
Ile spinning permanent snow -
From now on, only fine days,
With me my angel pocket!

He speaks in my life
For each particular case:
Any success is now more fun
To the sounds of major triads.
Not going right, limping verse
Ile-mail does not come for a long time -
Flute baroque melancholy F
My angel handheld displays.

Late last night I met
Musician familiar to me -
In an empty subway passage he played
Andante softly on a flute.
Tell me who you're playing now,
What you expect a reward?
He said: & quot; we will soon test,
And I have to rehearse & quot ;.

Ever since I was all alone,
Needle rust in his pocket.
I know that my world has its time
And cease to exist.
Split the sky, swept away the city
Flanks of the heavenly host,
And the thunder of their pipes when I hear,
How nice playing my angel.