Текст песни TRUECHE - Прогноз погоды

I copied the lines day by day.
But the bustle of cities did not change my good grin.
In places where I grew up by sneakers, I melted asphalt.
Yes rightly to them, Brus.
Let the misfortune pass the side, let us be good luck.
In black shales in the country, I am sorting out the words of only stories for life.
And what does your whole life mean?
To everyone would take their own without surrender.
Do not have a doorsche.
We still have God forgive.
I will twist the Mahorka in the neighboring court.
Life is so interesting, but will be doubly.
I am watching the planet parade.
I have already taken off high.
Cook the bed, softer.
Pastel paints on my white sheet,
So cleanly, because I did not want to stir.
Morality could not convey.
Enough to spread gossip throughout the world.
Do not take out the sung from the hut. Be wise.
I believe it will come that kindest morning and will be cool.
In a deserted park in the fog, walking towards the old building.
I remind myself of those times so that I do not relax.
I throw salam to the boys, if I throw it, then the most fiery!
Music in the heart, so we will bask.
The sun will shine, and I suddenly remember about childhood.
It was interesting and fun with those with whom I lived in the neighborhood.
We are shared by adult life and career stairs.

The wind of the branches of trees tickles.
Snow falls. White white.
Like patterns on bed.
Time is not enough for everyone here to live until dawn.
And maybe tomorrow someone will not return in the morning.
They collect the crowd and lead somewhere.
The brothers are leaving for war in the very dark.
I send them a ray of light.
I believe that the massacre will end and a warm summer will meet everyone in an arms.
Kalashi will be silent on the hellish battlefield.
The peaceful sky will only be overhead.
But for now, the shells are howling, they sing kalashi.
The brothers there are fire for each settlement.
And we all need that no less.
To return alive, and your mother would have hugged you at home.
A photo with a prayer clutching closer to the heart, sitting in the trench every day he recalled his childhood.
The weather forecast says:
"Possible precipitation."
We have rains, and there are only hails and tanks.
And if a peaceful issue is not to solve, the commander says:
"Three hundred thirty three".
Brotherhood is cooler than any wealth.
Honor and dignity are laid down in our fighters.
After all, no doubt understands that we will fight.
Whoever stood there against us.