РАСКОЛЬНИКОВ - Бордово-Жёлтая
текст песни

This dreary autumn
Eight hit the hour
Eh autumn autumn shafts does not mow so much ...

The foggy garden is Sunday
Rustling foliage caresses autumn wind
Eh Yona Paul Hyn, we settled with Arseny here
There are enough plants for all
Soon the birch shrinks snow
Hinting through the sec
Frosty morning to meet dawn
Her fucking laughter is still heard
The rays of the sun caress the gray roofs
Palm to brother Marat Igor Grisha
The handle of gold is embroidered
This music for the soul is this music from above
Do not look for food
The north wind runs through the courtyards
What a beauty to fuck
Slide on rusty rails of trams
The capital native crystal tears drops
Rushing into the distance Swan flock
Pale wings straightened
The past behind we will leave
The sound grows quietly
Rutin
This picture is not written for Mudil
In a leather cloak, a gentleman on the avenue hobbled
Disappearing in the Moscow turmoil without a trace
The inspector of the belly dies with a rod
And the dick knows that it will become tomorrow
Napasik for breakfast expensive far to the west
And then south in my cabin order coziness
And the seagulls of songs sing to the dilapidated ship
And time runs, although there is little in mala
But hits the fuck
Completely covers us with a transparent wave
On the right of the Bratan tightly painted, the whip of rifled