Текст песни В.Высоцкий - Высота

Height

They clutched high, as in his.
Mortar fire, a barrage ...
And we all climbed the crowd at her,
As at the buffet station.

And the cries of "Hurrah!" Froze in his mouth,
When we swallow a bullet.
Seven times we occupied the heights -
Seven times we left it.

Again, you do not want to attack anyone
Earth - like burnt porridge ...
For the eighth time, we take it for good -
His take, blood, ours!

Or maybe her side to get around -
And what we have clung to her ?!
But apparently, certainly - the fate of all-way
This high-rise scratches.

They clutched high, as in his.
Mortar fire, a barrage ...
And we all climbed the crowd at her,
As at the buffet station.