Елена Фролова - Час души
текст песни

There is an hour of soul, like an hour of the moon,
Owls hour, Maul hour, darkness
Hour ... hour of soul, like a string hour
David through dreams
Saulov ... at that hour tremors,
Vanity, Rushane, SUMP!
There is an hour of soul, like a thunderstorm hour,
Child, and this hour is mine.
Hour of the innermost bottoms
Chest. Dams descent!
All things broke out with grooves,
All Sleepings with mouth!
From the eye all curtains! All traces
Reverse! On the sheets notes
Not! Hour soul, like an hour of trouble,
Child, and this hour beats.
My trouble! - So you'll call.
So, a medicine knife
Exterpassed, children, mother
Bore: "Why do you live?"
And she, palms of fresh
Worn: "It is necessary. Lagged."
Yes, the hour of the soul, like a knife hour,
Child, and the knife of this product.