Костя Чудинов - Бумажные самолётики
текст песни

Summer was red and not it
Not in vain we are too windy
Behind the gardens the world did not end
The star burns brighter in midnight
This is not old age, but a breakdown of the voice
For those who have lost the runway

Fairy tales ended, became more than
Finding bets with the world retail
Air is compressed to a black point
Someone brings cloves even
The empty room is too cold
Too tiny, too much

The case does not move the past
Just sickening and really
The dusty sheet will not become a sail
Alien train everything past the station
And the road to the ring is compressed
Because we are returning

Cities behind the back are huge
Only in them is still homeless
Our paper planes
Our paper pistolics
Our paper boats
Our paper sky in specking
Our paper life is ceremonial

Summer was red and not it
Summer was red and not it
Summer was red and not it
Summer was red and not it
Summer was red and not it
Summer is red ...