Balu - Рутина - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Again in the mornings as a Duma, we think with the boys, it seems there are plans for the evening, somewhere the script is lost, like a fishing line to the throat, how much did it not matter, took out a fabric inhaled the poking

City routine, romance without a whistle, empty in a plate, a rumor about an impudent communist,

Then our heart was jammed, you beat stubbornly,

you fucked summer stayed on the verge of porn

I will spend a white chalk on cold asphalt, I do not believe in jokes the children themselves invented Santa,

In the area of the city, I saw a murdered Buddhist, torn caster in a pocket, on the offices of a taxi driver

Deep water abuts the ship forever, hueva to live when there are no plans for the coming evening, on the hut of the boys, or in an expensive foreign car but if only not to the chair, it’s stupid to rush off the deck if the boat is settled, wait for the morning to be in bed, forget The first course is the first bush tasty, dull at home is empty, the light of the chandelier goes out