Son, I won't reach the sky
|
After all, we are only able to fly clumsily.
|
The heart on acceleration gives off heat,
|
Torn notes of pain ...
|
Call me to you
|
And in the minutes of a flip I will roll you along the river,
|
Read lips about me.
|
Yes - Assai, woven from a winter day.
|
The Neva carried dark waters,
|
Our dreams and dances of ambition,
|
Someone was next to us, breathing in the back,
|
Fingering lips.
|
Rain, wash away the old notes
|
And everything is ridiculous up to the first pile.
|
Wings, legs, tail, halogen light,
|
Painfully bright my god.
|
Chorus:
|
Orion 122, we're moving closer to the ground.
|
Wake up, the days are created by films,
|
Dark frames - you.
|
Orion 122, we're moving closer to the ground.
|
Wake up, the days are created by films,
|
Dark frames - you.
|
These minutes are dust, these eyes are granite,
|
Pain you udder.
|
I drew on misted glasses
|
122 in this room.
|
I saw the coast, where there is a dead forest,
|
And someone in the hold whispered:
|
"There is no pain ..." and we are not, father,
|
Believe the stars - I guessed.
|
Scare with ammonia on cotton wool,
|
It's like closing the eyes from behind
|
And so quickly, somewhere at the bottom,
|
Between the lines - 122.
|
Believe, through the years we
|
Let's carry the cold of Orion.
|
And we will see death when we open our eyes
|
Scarlet stars of February...
|
Chorus:
|
Orion 122, we're moving closer to the ground.
|
Wake up, the days are created by films,
|
Dark frames - you.
|
Orion 122, we're moving closer to the ground.
|
Wake up, the days are created by films,
|
Dark frames - you.
|
Orion 122, we're moving closer to the ground.
|
Wake up, the days are created by films,
|
Dark frames - you.
|
Orion 122, we're moving closer to the ground.
|
Wake up, the days are created by films,
|
Dark frames - you. |