Marici, Modulshtein - Voronka
текст песни

This tale is not mine
The author died between the lines
As across the fields, across the fields
He was driving a black crow
Past Plyos, across the bridge
Along the potholes beyond the churchyard
Having run a current through its paw
He was driving a black crow

With punishments and executions
Red corridors
There a black crow sings a song
A lizard on a box
He says to kiss me
These are bad times. He's lying!

This tale is not mine
The author died between the lines
As across the fields, across the fields
He was driving a black crow
As for thirty-three rubles
And for two hundred and twenty volts
Garbage is driving across the fields
He's driving, tormenting and lying

With punishments and executions
Red corridors
There a black crow sings a song
A lizard on a box
He says to kiss me
These are bad times. He's lying!