Михей и Bad Balance - Тёмная ночь, город родной, Питер я твой... - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Night, Moscow, Three stations are burning, a soft wagon shakes the train Aurora, again I am Zorro under Vodka Smirnova, there is no conversation, I'm from St. Petersburg home. Perrons, forests and vaults fly, in them in muddy flame glare drives a conductor. Mmm I closed my eyes, and woke me in the morning the familiar voice of Cooper. Well, today I have a holiday today - Sheff came, how much autumn, spring and summer did not see each other with you, okay, how are you like your health, like there in Moscow, like a family and all that. Jump the peer oxygen, swallow the beer, chase around the districts, today used the car what is needed nearby here, the bazaar here and all. We are going, swing, music takes us, enjoy, joke, nothing strains us, the day misses, the evening continues, the night cattons, heats out. Well, Schuff, revolves you the city, what could be the issues of Cooper at this time. Dark Night, Native City, Peter - I am yours, Dark night, Native city, Peter - I am yours, Dark night, Native city, Peter - I am yours, Dark night .... Night, Peter, in the face Cool wind, all casinos In Nevsky neoons shine, we are going, the themes throw in words, we get to a friend of Griboedov from behind. On the right side of the growth lined up Bl * Di, everyone looks at me, as on a thick uncle, Cooper, by the way, was there once a bath where she was? Shipf, do you need it? Two cormorants opened the mouths of the nine, these are the sacking of a freedom canal, without an interval of the stone of the quarter, I am a sole from the Moscow railway station. And close this topic, better come down, I will write in mushroom, you read into microphones, drinking, reports, cards, dancing, what do you need to boys, so that the kaifovo tear away? So Barmen has prepared a cocktail, drink? Let's drink! Drink. Bach, sit on a wheelbarrow, Polyanka contemplate Yes, Peter He is, it's still mine. Dark night, Native city, Peter - I am yours, Dark night, the city of Native, Peter - I am yours, Dark night, the city of Native, Peter - I am yours, Dark night .... Peter, you, Peter Raw, Hero Peter Night , I was born here. Four in the morning, the arrow stood up, awakened from beer yeast. In the first letter there is a word, depart from him, where there is only much, I'm already there. Okay, I'll forget, it's time to go, I see a car - she is broken into meat. What's with the car, what happened to us at night, Sheff, why was my clothes in the shreds? Dark nights, warmer than in Sochi, offensively, but in July only white nights. Here everyone honors his style as he wants, on the banks of the Neva lies his native sand, a new car with gatchina numbers. The grandmothers are spent, we are going on the counter, comfort is provided with good columns, Nevsky is filled with bullshit beauties, sorry, but I need to be in Moscow City, and you can't tell things: wait! There is no boom, okay, cooper so far! But Peter, native, we love you!