Текст песни Марат Фахртдинов - Друзьям

My friends, no early old
Copying their fathers slightly
And our wives got up by the bed
The guard of the native hearth

There is no more place for illusions in the soul
Traces are protopt
Thoughts are smaller, stronger than everyday life
More and more money and food is needed

Sightly native messes
Graduated by youth-game
Tired of cursing and crowding
God forbid to the table you black caviar

In the morning a letter, in the evening - rest
Car, cottage, video in the house
On vacation of something like that
What you can't tell anyone

God forbid, God forbid, and take care of you, God
In an eternal unhealthy country
Where rays rays off -road
Hope in his drunken half

Where repentingly crying in front of the ashes
Carelessly forget about the living
And the air sowing from incense and fear
Incorporated

Of course, we have long been the same
Naive and pure youths
And everyone is right, and everyone is somewhat sinful
Within our market price

How the mushroom rain in my palm flows
Time is leaving, taking away years
And every day there is no longer enough
I am young for you, old friends