| Well, thank God we left the club
|
| Morning would completely climb onto the roof
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| Evil gang is going home
|
| What happiness is to stay with you
|
| At 5:45 on the Petropavlovsk beach
|
| I don't even have the thought of sleeping
|
| Let's be quiet, the tugboat is sailing
|
| Something flies helps us
|
| Actually the sun touches the lips
|
| Someone is alive, someone is not a corpse
|
| Sleeping on a bench on the Champ de Mars,
|
| Well, of course, graduation is at school
|
| Wet asphalt in the city is clean
|
| Motorists are fresh and invigorated
|
| Feelings are so clear thoughts are simple
|
| I love this morning, the main thing in it is you. Something is constantly floating along the Neva.
|
| I'm sitting on the grass in St. Petersburg
|
| What is going on in my head
|
| It's good that I'm not in Moscow
|
| Wake up city breathes slowly
|
| We walk together climbed onto the roof
|
| Eight already revives the movement
|
| We are silent again without tension
|
| Squinting both pipes are smoking
|
| The sun ordered us to smile
|
| This is Ost, this is Nord
|
| Somewhere there is a sea, somewhere there is a port
|
| This is where we came from
|
| They call and say they've arrived
|
| Frosya and Asya Dimik and Ksyusha
|
| They see their reflection in the puddles
|
| What is there in such information
|
| Take my hand with cold fingers
|
| Seagulls scream you are the queen
|
| Something floats it forever |