I'm on the eve of warm weather, I wasted that summer,
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There were red eyes and a thin pocket.
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The calm in the area is like a balm for the soul.
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The road is a cablegram, gathered with thoughts.
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With a friend on hand, we communicate without falsehood,
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Having learned that on business, without saying goodbye at expense.
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And here is the road further to brand new battles,
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With a couple of my brothers, we will sit down heart to heart.
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There is so much smoke around that we can't breathe here.
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Do not rush things, it is better to do it slowly.
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I just left the house, it was hot outside,
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But don't care about the weather - torrential or hail.
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He put on a hood, otherwise it beats on the ears.
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Everyone is in a hurry up the stairs in the subway.
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The carriage is packed to capacity, they will kill you here for your seats.
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Bro, this is Moscow, you know everything for it yourself.
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Chorus:
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Much is possible, only twenty behind.
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The head can think, but he hasn’t delved into many things.
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Much is possible, we are still looking for moves.
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The head thinks - we can go through the maze here.
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In my pocket, a gram of smelly will brighten my days.
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Now time is flying, we are flying right behind it.
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Thank God, not alone, but whether it will be ahead.
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Brother, now is a fierce time, I myself have settled in a stupor.
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Troubles fly head over heels, the beginning was in the morning.
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Thoughts are all confused, the balcony is a place to think.
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That's it, the whitefish is lit, a minute is smoldering on it.
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Thoughts are not untangled, although I'm fucking removed.
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The balcony is shrouded in smoke, you need to take a sip of water.
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What's next in the scenario - the depression began anew.
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Autumn gives abrasions, tormenting the whole soul.
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I whip the old with the premieres of the moments,
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Not everything was right, what I once did:
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I trusted many, but then I was betrayed by them,
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I thought everything was a trifle, but then there was a betrayal.
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But time smolders with ashes, everything changes concretely,
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This is how the district brought up and scattered priorities.
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The places are rather poor, but with a touch of native.
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Bro, this is life, or will it be ahead?
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Chorus:
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Much is possible, only twenty behind.
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The head can think, but he hasn’t delved into many things.
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Much is possible, we are still looking for moves.
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The head thinks - we can go through the maze here.
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In my pocket, a gram of smelly will brighten my days.
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Now time is flying, we are flying right behind it.
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Thank God, not alone, but whether it will be ahead. |