Текст песни фесс - сезон

I lick the empty can of condensed milk, and I cut the tongue,
Homeless for handing out smiles canvas,
Who was hiding under the cloak of a hollow od rain
But they still paint running down her eyes, and people felt chilly,
And you took off my battered body with a nail

time to conservation, we must love pickle
And my, padankami falls asleep, it takes the form of a coffin bed.
In light frost, frost. Frozen dew on wormwood.
Ahead of the winter half of the year and we are on the emotional starvation Sgin
Blank

This is an annual celebration of aging, which we have come to the caps, but without masks
Commemorates those hanged in our hearts, and set fire to the dry grass on the hills
I bury the memories of you and your treason under loose leaves
And let us kill time, let me rot under the snow.

But this spring the soil will give rise to other more sensitive
Seasons of aging and death will be, and will be a gentle sunset
And in the place where we had died in my chest will break snowdrop,
 March followed by a thaw,
tulips, pansies,
And Mack.