NTL - Когда хоронят молодых - Матерям нелегко молодых хоронить
текст песни

Someone has already been pierced, someone from a minute, sometimes you don’t know whether you will live at least a day. You will die in painful moans or avoid flour without violating the laws or dress bracelets on their hands. Every year in each district, someone drives away, taking inside, someone burns under a layer of armor instead of the institute. Someone interferes with someone, someone buys himself, someone rises for a long time, not noticing what is already drowning. The boys escort the brothers in the last journey, without hiding their tears, they say goodbye briefly. After all, he chose himself instead of his best friend, and jumped under the bullets, receiving lead with his own chest, because of his scored arrow, lost everything in a second. In a meaningless shootout and achieved ... what? Why does he now need those incompetent money, and the future son has a father before birth in the ground. We are tired, well, enough, young, fingers made of steel. In marble, initials, tears will be left by those who love and knew. Now on the ground only the plate will convey the meaning of the words: "Do not forget you!" We will think about you and always say: "It is not easy for mothers to bury you!" All the gold that the pseudo-Don-Dons prove the young people to violate the laws. To be a living barrier of those who divide the thrones, in this street war, the boys are treated as clones. What will the mother get for her son? From the chest of his cartridges, or the one who is to blame will crawl to her with a bow. It will be cotton legs, with the eyes of moisture full, to follow the tomb of the son, tears of grief in the throat lumpy. Ashes to the ashes, ashes to dust! He himself went to the block, at one time there was not enough courage to send everything to the dick. And friends, that they themselves, like targets in a dash, not the first time, bury their own, they say: "Rest in the world!" But the world was much wider than the grave fence, he measured it with money-and here is the reckoning. The world was much more beautiful than landscapes on banknotes, it sounded much more pleasant than a march in minor notes. I can’t see the eyes of mothers from raw tears, I can’t see fathers, without time gray. I can’t see the sadness of friends, friends, relatives, I can’t see when the young people are buried. We are tired, well, enough, young, fingers made of steel. In marble, initials, tears will be left by those who love and knew. Now on the ground only the plate will convey the meaning of the words: "Do not forget you!" We will think about you and always say: "It is not easy for mothers to bury you!" The posters of life will draw the future, here they decide all the trunks and scorched scars. From the knives they are healed in the hospital, God, maybe it will end someday. Street wars, a thirst for will, is enough to violate the laws, data on the eyelids, a step into a dead end. One moment, one shot, one man-lip! A look in the sky, a bullet, like a poison, will burn you. No! Forces will not help, only the red jet from the body will fall, leaving sticky traces on the land where you grew up. Remember the best moments, over the past seconds, doctors will not save, do not wait for help! Already only the wind will take you into the voids. Notes are played, notes played! I saw the sky, I saw people whose words inspired faith, where are they, where are they, where are they, where are they, where are they? We are tired, well, enough, young, fingers made of steel. In marble, initials, tears will be left by those who love and knew. Now on the ground only the plate will convey the meaning of the words: "Do not forget you!" We will think about you and always say: "It is not easy for mothers to bury you!"