Korney - Пит-стоп - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

And you all dream of villas, foreign cars, honey

It’s like I am expelled for sins by pitchfork, I am like a dead with pumps

It seems to be buried alive without you

so naively I believe in everything, I'm breaking through the child

It is a hand that the race continues,

that is not given, the final gong as the beginning of the end

I am still delighted at the sight of your smile,

that I killed a scoundrel in me

Making, almost perfect, slightly not normal

I believe that this is just a pit.

Tires will change, and we are views on life

And we will live together more about a hundred years,

And we will leave on one day, so the seem?

Yes, we will meet in the skies or above heaven,

But even there it will be important for me or without you,

After all, your eyes are whirlpool and the abyss of them drowned but remained distant

This is my fault, your background that the year after year became not suitable,

I was looking for your insufficient, I listen to the introductory part,

This is partly important to me, I need it for happiness

And let it have been decided for a long time for us, but you should not take scores at the foot of Mount Fuji

the distance between us is the river and the bridge, but for me it is a gap and a pit

It is unlikely that we will survive, our second Renaissance, do not look for the life of a spring, rivers Istok

If I used to play the instrumental in my head, I told the director bit Stop

You are driving everything with words no worse than buckshot, and our quarrels and meetings alas, are a fleet

For a long time I didn’t let the arrows in you, but I'm almost not alive from your firearms

Doliseconds with you replace me with eternity, and I zavali a load of problems and he did not know your shoulders) Maybe I was slightly tired, monotonous speeches, but you were faithful, I was noticed in relations, so why is the back of the head Turnov is crowned.

If you were put you on trial for this, I would become your lawyer

but I did not know that you kept under the cut, because you did not press right away, you crushed

The chances made it backward, in the morning at the half -fifth, a broken heart hid, and the rain knocked filigree like an old taper, you are my minefield, although I am not a sapper.

Come on without these, how is there a personal variety of heroin

But in my shadow theater you are the first variety heroine

Your silhouette is carved in your heart, Miss

You are far from a static in the Mizanscene, this is your benefit

When you are whistle on the scene

Why are you again, would not see you my eyes

But I take a clean sheet and write you again