Текст песни Трофим - На последнем этаже вечер

On the top floor of the evening
It expires on the blade wind
Subluxation in the crevices of the balcony door
We drink cognac in the kitchen with a friend
He and his wife strained, tight
The clock at the plate a quarter to three.

Darkness fall out the window splashing
A prophetic conversation in the kitchen
About football, money and virtues of women.
It does not matter what football in coma
And that women defaulted in the house
For all the attention to the forty semitones.

Chorus:

And nobody in the world does not care,
With both of us soon forty years
And we find this fact very amusing
Let on a life that is not fulfilled
But I did not have to be ashamed of yourself
And from the soul in its nice.

To change the color of paint forty
And clearly the story in a fairy tale,
Where a naive fool finds its way.
I so want a little sense
In an unusual thoughts
And peace and happiness in my heart a little bit.

Chorus.

On the top floor of the evening
It expires on the blade wind
Subluxation in the crevices of the balcony door
We drink cognac in the kitchen with a friend
He and his wife strained, tight
The clock at the plate a quarter to three.

Chorus.