Текст песни Марат Сулейманов - Плыви к мечте

We were so tired gasping, falling exhausted,
The Search and caravels raft swam so ...
He swam to the dream.

And we are on the sea blukali to Wednesday Thunderstorm
But you know, all your dizlayki We do not pull down.
Screams foaming at the mouth, plus the cries for an encore:
& quot; kill yourself an artist - this is your main prize & quot ;.
And the poet is alive in me, just grin,
We were without a word of run away from loud phrases.
Not just about crying in old notebooks,
After a smile on his face, I burn them to ashes.

Without looking back on my own it was not easy to run,
In poetry there was growth, though I was not his.
It may be a temporary talent now left me,
Whether the poet in me was killed, he was barely alive.
Defibrillator of the audio bits
Let's breathe, breathe, do not die so early.
It is justified, without a word to the blind dream, therefore, that the wounded.