Текст песни d-tab - а может август захочет еще остаться на часок

as the son of a mother meets the dry autumn leaves on the highway wind blows
looking into the eyes of passing cold cold can also burn so be ostoroshen

it looks like a puddle tears and lies and August may want to stay still for an hour
not a dream but the entire Old digest difficult for us but did not penetrate the earth you still plosskaya

frightening to know that your price tag has expired breaths smoke with oxygen in equal proportions
All these games are just a more expensive around you are only human rights hopeless

fun at a party held overnight bowl image is blurred and clear all mene
pseudo happiness breaks into fragments we think too much about the people know little

as an option to write blogs and bestsellery know the price of that other priceless
shout about themselves to wash dirty linen in public is peculiar only to those who are weaker opponent

passers-by will laugh at us before it is grief not touch their mind
Fall put diagnos everyone and not the fact that people gain halos after the crucifixion

confused stomping their feet after a fight the morning not sleep on weekdays, no water soot
hum under his breath that nebylo sad but it would be someone to give up art

than a similar feel differently if all covered with matte film instead of the skin
Summer lived through yet another mediocre adaptation to meet me cold autumn

every story is the ending that unites us because it's true
even when we cry that all happened differently but we are happy because the yes we can lie to everybody

often perceive hostility questions the answering machine will give out false information
and who will save you from the forbidden herb soon someone will understand that the Ministry of Health was right

         burns inside heel and not the fact that a long journey collect belongings
no provisions but deprovymi notes all so familiar but pleases the eye

I stifle her screams bubbly can cheer on the guests do not stamp life
someone consoled himself empty toys showing off to neighbors that the house all by Feng Shui

conscience torments burn it hurts like no blush at the glowing nis
everything on the shelves to place the still raving how we will meet the passions and troubles

I before the days left on the tape in an empty people tend to believe
empty speech singing the screen on foot Nearby wisely taught eternal life

   all bathed in watercolor smoke a last effort to breathe forces already there
while unlikely to change this city where every owner of the bitch yells Shawky Oporto