Bad Balance - Тёмная ночь
текст песни

Night, Moscow, three stations are burning, a soft car shakes the Aurora train, again I am zorro under the vodka of Smirnov, there is no conversation, I am from the St. Petersburg house. The platforms, forests and arches fly in, in them in a muddy heat the conductor drives a glare. Mmm, I closed my eyes, and the familiar voice of Cooper woke me up in the morning. Well, I have a holiday today - Sheff arrived, how much autumn, spring and summer did not see each other, okay, how are you, how is your health, how is it in Moscow, like a family and all that. Try to St. Petersburg oxygen, with a swallow of beer, we chase in the districts, today I figured out the car that I needed nearby here, the bazaar here went out. We drive, swing, music takes us, enjoy, joke, nothing annoys us, passes us, the evening continues, the night sits in, drives into the gateway. Well, Sheff, the city is overexcited, what can be the questions of Cooper at this time. Dark night, dear city, Peter - I am your, dark night, dear city, Peter - I am yours, dark night, dear city, Peter - I am yours, dark night .... night, Peter, in the face of a cool wind, all casino On the Neva neones they shine, we go, throw the topics with words, get to the friend of Griboedov from behind. Bl*di lined up on the right side, everyone looks at me, like a fat uncle, Cooper, by the way, was there a bathhouse, where is she? Sheff, do you need it? Three cormorants opened their mouths from nine, these are jackals of a freed channel, without an interval made of a quarter stone, I stole this wheelbarrow from the Moscow station. And we’ll close this topic, we’d better go for a walk, jump into the mushrooms, read it into microphones, drink, reports, cards, dances, what do boys need to break away? Barman has already prepared a cocktail for us, let's drink? Let's drink! We drink. Bach, we are sitting on a car, we contemplate the clearing, yes, Peter is like that, all the same, he is mine. Dark night, dear city, Peter - I am yours, dark night, dear city, Peter - I am your, dark night, dear city, Peter - I am yours, dark night .... Peter, you are my raw, hero Peter Peter Night I was born here. Four o’clock in the morning, the arrow got up, sharply awakening from the beer yeast. There is a word in the first letter, retreat from it, where there is only a lot, I am no longer there. Okay, I’ll forget, it's time to go, I see a wheelbarrow - it is spilled into meat. What about the car, what happened to us at night, Sheff, why my clothes are shreds? Dark nights, warmer than in Sochi, are insulting, but in July only white nights. Here, everyone hones his own style as he wants, on the shore of the Neva lies his native sand, a new car with the numbers of the Gatchina. Grandmas are spent, we are going on oncoming, comfort is provided with good columns, Nevsky is full of puffy beauties, it’s a pity, but I have to be in the Moscow City, and you can’t say to business: wait! No tomorrow an arrow, okay, Cooper for now! But Peter, dear, we love you!