Текст песни Вадяра Блюз - Холода

These areas put us on the face.
Everyone wants to take away their own from these walls.
Here happiness for the evening, weight, somewhere, for a gram.
Concrete square with the color of scandals and fights.

There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.
In bulk poison, but little good.
There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.
There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.

Well, did Simbirsk find on the map? Where is the Volga, his mother.
Here the cities of houses are similar to facades as brothers.
It's hard not to sleep here every day looking
On paintings from gray, disgustingly propagated spots.

Here more than a penny will be paid unlikely to you
For the fire on the uncle, brother. So what would the uncle not rob?
The sleeping does not sleep. Here the truth flies, as a rule, from the bit.
Memory swollen alcohol will wash off from the pain of bent spin.

Not the best place for childhood, there was no one to take an example from
Children of entrances, if the fathers who have seen,
Then sober no more than once a year, dreams are drunk, Gazprom.
The factory will fall apart by setting up houses

Under those who are later thrown overboard.
And the investigation leads for robbery for the fence.
After all, here it is not to be taken out with a hump. So what are you going to do
If there is no one else to ask for credit?

Then the world failed. God forbid Patience and strength
Mothers, while the son is where smoke is a pillar.
It is safe here, but only while you are with the crowd.
Blood on asphalt proof that it is better without debts.

Here the sun is not visible, the house is in the shadow of the neighboring one.
On this island bad luck, autumn all days.
Cup zero seven and gives freedom to everyone
Plant Giant for the production of unemployed.

These areas put us on the face.
Everyone wants to take away their own from these walls.
Here happiness for the evening, weight, somewhere, for a gram.
Concrete square with the color of scandals and fights.

There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.
In bulk poison, but little good.
There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.
There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.

The area is like a sideboard, on the shelves of the piles of the fate of the clumsy.
He will close the door of the crypt with the gates behind you.
Who did you put with, at the ROVD photobots
They look with the question, could you get out of the swamp?

The same paths are from the hospital to the stove.
On the shelf, half a bottle of vodka is a half of trouble.
Flowing ceiling of neighbors from below is the half of trouble,
After all, abortion is again, and the letters of the wives in the passport of a girlfriend are the half of trouble.

Behind the turn of the microloan, followed by a microloan -
The door to the bright tomorrow, bright, even if with his eyes.
The area is still a comedian, a hall would have fallen from his jokes.
He pokes again, as you crawled out of the investigation.

The quarter of the tattoo masters, they have everything the same,
On the bend of the elbow, the picture of poppy heads with oil.
Here not to sleep if you do not hope,
But pink glasses fought before the eyes of the owners.

These areas put us on the face.
Everyone wants to take away their own from these walls.
Here happiness for the evening, weight, somewhere, for a gram.
Concrete square with the color of scandals and fights.

There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.
In bulk poison, but little good.
There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.
There is cold, brother. Cold, brother.