Текст песни Сбитый с пути - По переходам

Running hounds among drunk houses
Entailing burning persons
Blathat and Pap-Pa Peres
Demolition plans
Catching luck by the tail
For this hundredth your toast
With shadows of PA-PA transitions
And that you chose the temptations of the pier
So weightless
What pulls p-pa.
But all once will mean
What is too late to scream
And silently pas-p-ps

In the transitions in the middle of the world in the dark
Tell me, after all, everyone is looking for falling or crazy money
Among the glasses and wines of sparkling in the bubbles of dreams
Be under the weight of intrigues, otherwise everything seemed to be in vain
Everything is in vain to drag on a strap is not clear where
The existence of which dreams of the walls of the Kremlin
And the choice seems to be small, but you can always fall
Depends on how snow -white sweetness climbs a glass
Look, there is so much temptation
So many eyes of clear amazing
You are captivated, so many girls in the suit
They so attract in clubs, tuses and cafes
Here the craftswomen are the highest in terms of raising lava
There is everything that you dreamed about a young traffic police
Do not press the dough, and in your hut they will walk a tramp
The foot of the priestess, with its delights of the cod
Here all this is bought - bed fuss
And all in the joke and in the party for youth golden
That on a slumshit on a pawnshop is not capable of in any way
Full of young puppies that present themselves like this
What is a flock of battered elite dogs
Kaifs on the drawing walls of the nose do not rush tobacco
Monkey and glasses of searches crazy macaques
It is crying for them at school according to work workshops
And they wise them to the nobles unreasoned to catch up


As long as education, suitable food
Without getting here, you will not understand how the barin broke you
Having rubbed a vegetable on potassium, and handed over to the scrap
Shevel Palen Bosa is bended by pedals
While you are young guy your transition not yet littered
Here, boots dream of preferring to run after a sleigh
Sea of ​​ways, but one current in tunnels in a bath
Raking offices, baldness and addiction are coming
On Fridays a storm in a glass, all know the impudent
How much can you hasten when the lazy is only not
Cavities in the minds, on Maybochi lighthouses as if
Fly through the streets, forcing students eagerly hanging
Here, every loafer-Clown is full of a price
You do not know who he is, but his dad is if that to the epaulets
Pull out if he drives Honda, he is a moment of deputy
And yet they only remember the transitions for many years