farther apart And it's one empty bottle And two broken hearts Night after night we are falling apart Now it's two broken bottles And four empty hearts Decompression Depression period
От Москвы до Бреста нет такого места, Где бы ни скитались мы в пыли. С лейкой и блокнотом, в моторе с пулеметом Сквозь туман и стужу мы прошли. Без глотка
На вечернем сеансе в небольшом городке Пела песню актриса на чужом языке Сказку Венского леса я услышал в кино Это было недавно, это было давно Это было
Christmas is the time of year That we become as one Tears of joy Heart filled with love Cause Christmas time has begun There is nowhere else I would
Я словно пёс на привязи. Отпусти. А лучше пристрели меня! Слёз не осталось, мне кричать больно Моё сердце умирает в темноте звёзд Мне пора уйти на минорных
[1 куплет] Периодические рывки и всплески резких эмоций, Ведь не с кем пить кровь, под этим едким солнцем... Опухоль видно лишь ночью... лишь порциями
I don't know when it got this way I don't know how long she's gonna stay Every week it's the same in her room That's why I came Here I go, I go again
Долго же шел ты в конверте, листок,- Вышли последние сроки! Но потому он и Дальний Восток, Что - далеко на востоке... Ждешь с нетерпеньем ответ ты -
Смутное время - Призрак свободы на коне, Кровь по колено, Словно в каком-то диком сне, Тешится люд - бьют старых богов, Молится люд - ждут праведных снов
When this began, I had nothing to say And I'd get lost in the nothingness inside of me (I was confused) And I'd let it all out to find That I'm not the
How many times has this gone on? Call 'cause it's just been too long Say it's good to hear it's going fine Check that you're still featured in my mind
When words they mean nothing And everything you say is wrong You tell me your happy Turn around and I'll be gone You think about leaving Leaving when
There's a party down on the corner Do you want to go? They got rhythm, a little blues And a whole lot of soul I don't care what you've got to say You
[Black Thought] From the Tunnels in the wee hours of the black morning From The Roots sprout the Foreign Objects family tree This is mad abstract All
I sell the morning papers sir, My name is jimmy brown Everybody knows that I|'m a newsboy of the town You will hear me yelling "morning star" As I run
It's the most wonderful time of the year With the kids jingle belling And everyone telling you be of good cheer Oh, it's the most wonderful time of the
It's slowly maintaining now I tried to bring it back, but it's over somehow The static is silent, so I hear you're stable now Tired of progress, but only
Well, a person can work up a mean, mean thirst After a hard day of nothin' much at all Summer's passed, it's too late to cut the grass There ain't much