And fluffy snow gently spreads as it should be in January
|
And I can't believe I can't believe that I'll come back to you again
|
I will hug your white shoulders, tremble, lower your eyes
|
You ask what I'm doing, you say I didn't expect you
|
Have you forgotten everything or it seems you are ready to forgive a long time ago
|
Well, it doesn’t fit and the conversation doesn’t fit with us anyway
|
Where I was, there are fierce frosts, even words freeze
|
And in the ice, rivers are sad, muddy and dangerous banks
|
Chorus:
|
I will give you two bouquets of winter roses
|
Two years on the road, two years on the run
|
I'll tell you that there is no salvation
|
That there is no salvation on foreign shores
|
A bad biography is not my fault, not yours,
|
And then there will be photographs where the boy is the spitting image of me Outside the window the trees sway fussily tea you pour
|
Everything turns out somehow stupid, but you can’t return the past
|
Chorus:
|
I will give you two bouquets of winter roses
|
Two years on the road, two years on the run
|
I'll tell you that there is no salvation
|
That there is no salvation on foreign shores
|
I'll take a broken Leningrad guitar all covered in dust
|
And I will sing something forgotten about funny yard love
|
Chords will ring out not harmonious old music as in a dream
|
Where are you, my school friends, wandering around the earth somewhere
|
I don't know who you're married to, but native walls don't lie
|
And they will tell me a little shyly who was here and how they live here
|
Maybe everything starts late, not my fault, not yours
|
Only life does not end like the January cold
|
Chorus:
|
I will give you two bouquets of winter roses
|
Two years on the road, two years on the run
|
I'll tell you that there is no salvation
|
That there is no salvation on foreign shores
|
Chorus:
|
I will give you two bouquets of winter roses
|
Two years on the road, two years on the run
|
I'll tell you that there is no salvation
|
That there is no salvation on foreign shores |