Slimus - Ковёр-самолёт
текст песни

Tears on diamonds, carnations on granite
Throwed garlands, glare (glare) on the hood
In a fashionable tracksuit, but holes in the pockets
Only God can tell how much is in the piggy bank
There at the end of the yard, don't turn off the car
If there are words, then a grand from Gino
Two guns—that was rich
Lots of stuff on the tables, and the tires were smoking
Since childhood, we haven't eaten with golden spoons
Down Ostozhenka in a GLE, in Highline leather
How much is left behind, how much will be lived?
Before they sum us up, turn up the heat
Everyone will answer for everything, but that will be later (later)
And those entrances remember our faces
Someone lost control on the highway, let go of the reins
And it seemed we could do anything
There's little space in the sun, crows are circling
The neighborhood is bustling. Where can I find my own? Take her there, flying carpet
These aren't tears running down her cheeks, but rain pouring
There's little room under the sun, crows are circling
The neighborhood will become noisy. Where can I find my true self?
Take her there, flying carpet
These aren't tears running down her cheeks, but rain pouring
I've been in the valley, but there's no light there
Where the lambs are silent, a cigarette smolders
Where despair chokes the boys at the end of the tape
Yuri Bykov will film all about this
White desert, few places under the sun
Even a close friend will become a stranger
She will wait, the light burns in the window
He walked into the sunset, never to return
No answers to all the questions
How many years do we have to search?
While our best selves wander somewhere
In the cosmic dust of other planets
There's little room under the sun, crows are circling
The neighborhood will become noisy. Where can I find my own?
Take me there, flying carpet
It's not tears that roll down her cheeks, but rain pouring
There's little room under the sun, crows are circling
The neighborhood is bustling. Where can I find my own?
Take me there, flying carpet
It's not tears that roll down her cheeks, but rain pouring
There's little room under the sun, crows are circling
The neighborhood is bustling. Where can I find my own?
Take me there, flying carpet
It's not tears that roll down her cheeks, but rain pouring