найтивыход - Соня - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Sophia Konstantinovna, let me warm up in his stairwell, I have nowhere to go anymore.

For your house, the hillock, where they sang songs, and was kissed not from those in the first rays.

Sonya, let me in the heart and player, let me in the needle on Vienna, the proportion of flattery;

I was saved more than once your thoughts and sobriety, but unfortunately everything went on pairs now.

We have grown gunpowder, | when in the Love Citadel | came to us

Lovers of grief and drunken, where they cry, you came to reveal, and the rest are only in dreams.

Native Sonya, let me in the soul, my reality is shrouded, damn it;

And maybe, under this bit, your heart beats, as is under the branded sample from the song.

And your boyfriend like a jacket with hotline Miami, he did not think, | When I put blood.

Those interesting stories from Storky Line; In the glasses of wine bottled,

Whiskey in the fecents, but fuck, it does not hurt, not quickly, not throwing, not the oddity, we are in phosphorus. And how my head, what day will lomit with love for suffering from loved ones, Sonya. Let me drunk home and pour back, let us be with you not to the end honest. Native Sonya, I warm my soul with the stories of a lie, about what I need someone. All these songs, poems on the knees, in the flights of those stair, in the misfortune of which houses; My native neighborhoods began to forget, and I return to them in my rare dreams. So fucking to go away and drink every day, so fat to diverge on full; In your area, after all, broken lanterns, people here are sad, aware of the symptoms. Tell me what you need to do, and I will make my soul I have gouging on the will, chasing the dreams, then beyond the horizon, I twist twisting in the VOLUME player. Who we became? And what should I do, Sonya? Sofia Konstantinovna, let me warm up in his stairwell, I have nowhere to go. For your house, the hillock, where they sang songs, and was kissed not from those in the first rays. Sonya, let me in the heart and the player, let me in the needle on Vienna, the proportion of flattery; I was saved more than once your thoughts and sobriety, and we still have each other.