С.Т.А.Я. - Сказки
текст песни

Everywhere coniferous forest, the smell of spruce branches,
Where the moose went, leaving his hoof to the cast.
Blind wilderness, silence cuts hearing.
A Russian spirit sits over the tops of the pines.

The fairy tale will become true overnight - a whistle in the ears,
Non -time with the past will be dispersed on the sides of the knives.
Crowns will be twisted, and the stupa will fly across the sky
Somewhere into the distance, behind the river gray clubs,

They rise, bathing with gray clouds.
The red thread of Ivan the fool beckons behind him.
Someone's wild roar, whistle, smoke from the demonic cadil,
And once I drank honey and beer in those places!

Air saturated with resin, the smell of dampness in the forest,
The fog is more denser ... Where do my legs carry me?
There was an uncle told, he wandered in this area,
All living around, said that the abyss is here.

People from neighboring villages disappeared.
I lie, look at the moss, stumbling on the stump.
Raising his eyes and jumping sharply with a bullet,
I saw the house, and he ... on the legs of the curly ...

That there was a dope fell from him on the run,
The full moon comes out, the butcher's night today!
Someone grabbed the sleeve, I look, this stump is again.
Separate your lectures! A shadow flickered the goblin.

The forest parted, a stone in front of me in the field.
Well, right, as in a fairy tale, a flames are alarm.
That's a crossroads ... Where can I look for my house?
Russian road ... I feel, I will have to get a break.

Thoughts gain power at night to the full moon,
But why is it so scary to return home to one?
What my grandmother whispered to me before bedtime once,
It becomes a reality, evil quenches thirst.

Each sound and rustle scares in darkness,
The gypsy sun calls everything outside
What was hidden outside our reality,
You will see at a certain hour
A fairy tale in the depths of each of us will wake up.

Thoughts gain power at night to the full moon,
But why is it so scary to return home to one?
What my grandmother whispered to me before bedtime once,
It becomes a reality, evil quenches thirst.

Each sound and rustle scares in darkness,
The gypsy sun calls everything outside
What was hidden outside our reality,
You will see at a certain hour
A fairy tale in the depths of each of us will wake up.

I remember that my grandmother read the fairy tale before bedtime,
Her voice still kept from disasters,
I was far from the house, in a foreign side,
I thought, it was destined to disappear, it was not for me that it fell ...

Oak scatters branches, under it a stone ... three ways,
One should choose one, but did not know where to go ...
First, a straight-up to the north, without a horse and without a papachi,
And the second is the west, in abuse or head on the block

The third-in the east looks, the most difficult and hungry,
By the taiga and Boulests for the Star of the Guide.
Everyone chooses his own, life teaches us so,
Raises or hits, everyone received his own

Bruliks il Voronya, sweet honey or balland,
From the loss, exhausted, tearing the tonsils.
Conscience is the highest measure, I accept the battle with honor,
The main enemy is stereotypes, in the battle over himself!

Thoughts gain power at night to the full moon,
But why is it so scary to return home to one?
What my grandmother whispered to me before bedtime once,
It becomes a reality, evil quenches thirst.

Each sound and rustle scares in darkness,
The gypsy sun calls everything outside
What was hidden outside our reality,
You will see at a certain hour
A fairy tale in the depths of each of us will wake up.