риталити - риндинки - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

. Titals. - Rindinka

And this is truly mean, consider yourself something like an icon

Alien Cold City floats outside the windows of the bus, memories are knocking in the temples

Reminded to herself that this is just another dead spring

You had a joke in a closed circle, holding another hand in your hand

And who died in torment for a dull bitch, the crosses are thrown on the fabric on the nerves of playing separation

Well, Hello morning, I'm going to the area of ​​forest owls and storm foxes that have gone into the sky overflow

Their vector always strives with stone down, through the voids of sparkle eyes you hear a bird cry

Once again? There is no longer any difference now. Forgot my soul in the dark of empty apartments

This happened a couple of years ago, attracted with a thread of pain into a marvelous garden, in the cabin, a crush and an unpleasant stench

But I am glad, Mitchel is glad that the glass material of seconds at the moment does not collapse in the world, and you do not need a pancake

As if they broke the laconic fantasy, one on a rainy day at a dark unfamiliar station

And somewhere in anticipation of the dusty shelves of the mysterious store lurk the old picture

Fear suddenly manifested itself that in reflections it always lives invisible, quoting an inviritus, my friend is an end to you

Well, the headphones are denser in the ears, plays sadly for the singing of Rodari, you do not need your ligatity of impudent

I can get there that I have inside and not what you sold, anger is not an uninvited guest, anger helps

On faces, tears are like a rabies of martens, or autumn, which further increases the risk of falling into a myth

The filter does not miss the rindinki beyond the worst Lear, in Viri Ril

The old cemetery, a walk in the middle of green graves, can no longer be pulled out from the other side of the windows

Everything is slowly but surely moving to the limb, before his eyes, natively dedicated down the dried sheet

And this beckons so, it is so close, I can almost reach with my hand, so far without risk

On the frescoes of the faces of the damned saints, "only one you are guilty of everything" - the inner voice of the inner repeats the inner voice

You won’t write anything, get to the nearest bar, get drunk, before leaving, buy a souvenir for your memory.