Крап Вега - Без ответа
текст песни

Textile: he loved to give her roses in their relationship serious,
But the clouds covered the mind, causing a thunderstorm,
When he frowned, discussing a jar of beer behind a jar
Her photos on the iPhone are shot, on the body of white
Black linen flashes in front of the mirror in the bathroom,
On the social network, it seemed very strange to him.
And he asked her to remove them from the page more than once,
Delete them, refusals is acute.
My advice disappeared into the tuna, like Oster's advice,
And in the relationship of a friend the timaut was brewing.
After a break, he called her and the new round began,
In which he was worried and loved, but received by the liver,
She was not particularly tormented and lived in a girl.
Pulling a long fight and finding the cause for whims.
And he kept steadily, looking for a clue, because he was a man.

Chorus: I no longer remember her name, Anya or Sveta?
She painted in a brunette, and she was known as a blonde,
How often we dictate feelings, and go to the principle,
We are looking for a prince, but we remain unanswered ...

Textile: she went to museums, have time to have sex
After the walks of Moscow under the night summer sky,
And he wrote to her sending that he was waiting for a date
After the station in bed and cursed her vacation.
And the photo also flashed and haunted,
She seems to be her own (into the board), and in a foreign land a stranger.
And the incondition grew, the strength of the female will
It was checked more than once, but made a malfunction.
SMS unanswered, like a newspaper headlines,
They blacken, constant events of new versions,
And after the apology, a series, no one glued it,
She considered herself cunning, he did not believe.
I just liked once, that depth of her eyes,
Slows that reflects these feelings,
The sediment is vile, but beckon and drunk without rules,
The twelfth round passed and he left it.

Krap Vega: How many pages are sprayed, which have been written so long ago,
Numbers have lived, left -wing thoughts are thought out.
The leaves from the trees have passed several times already,
From the moment that there are no more than us.
The wind brings lead, you do not miss at all
I, too, to be honest, well, slightly, sometimes in the fall.
I am stupid on the streets, and you are probably already in the office,
Home at eight, I wake up on wear.
A stone would throw a stone at me for a crooked syllable,
But the waves of memory tide on the brain are crushed,
Although of course, not at all like before,
Our clothes are carelessly dumped in a heap.
Swearing with resentment, we will no longer much multiply for each other,
And after two cocktails, the phone does not worry,
I am glad that nobody needs an urgent doctor,
With the injection of your subcutaneous profile.
Posher now: where are I and with whom are you?
Who sleeps with me, or who gives you flowers?
Kents said something to me, littering "kents",
I listened poorly, remembered individual points.
I doubt that with such a mug, I was the gift of God,
But maybe something was good, I thought lying down.
Before going to bed, apparently not about that fell asleep with the remote control,
He woke up when the dreams quilted with a whip.
I did not want to put pressure on pity, I clicked myself
So tired of the lyrics, but you need to add a little,
Micro is so familiar, I am here more often and more often,
Not the last text, has not yet played in the box.