Валерий Антонюк - Уличный художник на Арбате
текст песни

Music - Valery Antonyuk, words Svetlana Tabala

Street artist on Arbat
The creaks creak in a black grifle
I painted spring in a short dress,
What looks like you ...
Look bottomless, like a sky,
What crazy has been driving more than once.
I crushed out in the spring ridiculous,
Where to look for her now?

Do not come to terms and not believe
Tell me who is the wine,
That you became my loss
Aquamant by my spring.
Do not believe and not come to terms.
I hope you are somewhere nearby ...
I look at someone else's faces
In the indifferent crowd of Arbat.

Pencil, paper and a tripod,
Not a penny for the soul
Draw me, street artist
(Draw a friend to me, because you are an artist)
The one that I call in the spring.
Draw, as if
Happiness, faith and love
After all, it's just very much for you
A few strokes ...

Do not come to terms and not believe
Tell me who is the wine,
That you became my loss
Aquamant by my spring.
Do not believe and not come to terms.
I hope you are somewhere nearby ...
I look at someone else's faces
In the indifferent crowd of Arbat.