Борис Гребенщиков - Праздник Урожая Во Дворце Труда - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

How much we do not sang - it's not like that, that was silent, so our holy water was dead. We drove the wheels of sadness for us - and here we go for the feast of the harvest in the palace of labor. Time to evade, but how to evade? Send from this zone? Wire wires? And Rosa Lespromhoz and Maria is a wedding bird - ready to give everything that is, per ticket for a harvest holiday in the palace of labor. We know that the car is completely faulty. We know that there is no way and there never been here. Close your eyes, so as not to see squeezing by the field of the faw, in the door knocking a star with a sky - a feast of a crop in the palace of labor! Red, like flag, black soot, in antique ruins torn in trash trains. Under the legs of passersby - Hermitage canvas, the conductor is absolutely deaf - the feast of the harvest in the palace of labor. How much we did not sing, it's noted that our holy water was silent, so our holy water became dead. And I will wait for a star night at night, we are at the very beginning - a harvest festival in the palace of labor.