Сбитый с пути - По переходам
текст песни

Running hounds among drunken houses
Attracting hot persons
Blatkhat and pa-pa-pa crossings
Plans for demolition
Having caught luck by the tail
For this your hundredth toast
With shadows pa-pa-pa crossings
And that you chose the pier of temptations
Of such weightless beginnings
That pulls pa-pa-pa crossings
But everything will one day mean
That it is too late to shout
And silently pa-pa-pa crossings

Along crossings in broad daylight among dark nights
Tell me, after all, everyone is looking for a fall or crazy money
Among glasses and sparkling wines in bubbles of dreams
To be under the weight of intrigues, otherwise it seemed all in vain
All in vain to drag on a strap to who knows where
Existence that dreams of the walls of the Kremlin
And the choice seems small, but you can always fall
Watching how the snow-white sweetness climbs along the glass
Look, there is so much here temptation
So many clear amazing eyes
They captivate you, so many girls of the same color
They lure you into clubs, parties and cafes
Here are the highest craftswomen in pumping out money
Here is everything you dreamed of as a young barefoot
Don't be stingy with your money, and they will walk barefoot in your hut
Leg priestesses, shaking their charms
Here they buy all this - bed fuss
And all for fun and for a party for golden youth
Who are incapable of slow dancing at a pawnshop
There are plenty of young puppies who present themselves like this
What is like a pack of shabby elite dogs
The buzz on the banner does not come from tobacco on the walls of the nose
A monkey and glasses are the hunt for crazy macaques
A workbench cries for them even in school for the works
And so are they, unfinished nobles catch up

While education, suitable nutrition
If you haven't got here, you won't understand how the masters broke you
Grubbed on potassium like a vegetable, and handed over for scrap metal
Moving scorched scorch barefoot bends pedals
While you're young, your crossing is not yet blocked
Here Valenki dream, preferring to run after the sleigh
A sea of ​​paths, but one current through the tunnels to the bath
Offices raking in, baldness and addiction are coming
On Fridays a storm in a teacup, all the nobility are impudent
How much can you eat, when the lazy one only undereats
Depressions in the minds, on the lighthouses Mayboks like a melt
Flying through the streets, forcing female students to hang out greedily
Here every slacker-clown raises his price
You don't know who he is, but his dad, if anything, will put him on the shoulder straps
Naholit, If he'll drive a Honda, he'll cover it in a moment
And yet only the long years of transitions are remembered