The struggle for oil and bullion The struggle of the authorities and above
|
Names engraved on black tiles
|
And the essence of the vault is great in the partisan womb
|
We once showed them who we are
|
Yes, here the devilish uncle just pour a glass
|
Let's write about that at times
|
Love does not crave love sold for grandmas
|
Muses with parishes are high as a bowl of truth
|
And here at the center or from the center
|
Eyes will not hide all life chooses the best,
|
And we are on a black fret with a brother out of town
|
Things did not wait for the affairs of the year without stopping
|
You give me a reason to go crazy here
|
Having drunk to the bottom, meeting dawn after dawn,
|
And I would move everything from the very beginning
|
Brother for brother to the pier
|
Chorus:
|
And my sun will show me the way
|
Inhale empty weakness, but not the essence
|
Wind in the face of scraps of memory sadness
|
Well, let ... while holding on
|
Poems poured songs soul under the stones
|
Life is our sea brother we drift like pirates
|
Let's cling to the thread that's between us
|
And how many have been lost over the years, but not memory
|
And I'm not a reader here, not your father
|
A lot of us fall and a little goes up
|
Mistakes like stretched strings brother
|
Let's do it again, play the guitar
|
There is no power without us, they do not rule us
|
I am an Orthodox world war with crosses
|
Here as from a chain and into a flock as a wounded warrior
|
Messenger of the stone jungle of the children of the outskirts
|
Worn out like richet by you life
|
Through those who bared their teeth shouted come back
|
They are like swill for cattle there are no feelings
|
The desert of your sarcasm... is no longer the essence |