Singer: Grigory Leps

The less you know, the better you sleep.

The French revolutionaries at least their names have not changed, and our entirely nickname was Lenin, not Lenin, not Stalin, Stalin, Zinoviev Zinoviev not. In short, the revolution of the werewolves.

Units leave Russia by conviction, the majority still go for sausage. But I don't blame them - it is impossible to condemn a man for the craving for the best life.

In Soviet times, was not patriotism because love of country has tried to instill with the help of slogans and slogans. Slogans is kitsch, and kitsch is the worst enemy of patriotism.

The world is ruled not by love but by fear. Fear to die, to be poor, to lose someone. Fearless-almost no.

The political regime has changed and the mentality of people has changed. In the years of my youth in our city did not lock the door. Steal still there was nothing.

Politics is a dirty business. Dirtier than prostitution and drug trafficking. But the media man sooner or later there addictive. As you know, or are you involved in politics or it takes you.

Night on the streets went
Star gait of Queens
Words and numbers simplicity
Heavenly bridge
Scattered bird feathers.
Not forgotten by anyone
Holiday lip, resentment eyes.
Take me to your captivity
This line of knees
Kissing one last time.
Just a glass of vodka on the table
Wind is crying outside the window,
Silent pain speak to me
This young moon cries.

In the old Park smells of pine silence
And swinging on the branches of the cloud.
How long have not seen you,
Maybe a year, maybe centuries?
None to find traces of
In the far territory, where we each other are not found.
I came to you of the forgotten dreams,
How come in his harbour ships.
Natalie, assuage my sorrows, Natalie!
Natalie, I went through the desert of sadness polselli!
Natalie, I'm back to tell you I'm sorry.
Natalie, destiny and I cannot escape!
Assuage my sorrows, Natalie!
Natalie! Natalie!

Indeed, our morons sitting on the Internet are absolutely right.

Well, that is so very long
You had to fly!
So what, so are a little confusing
That someone need to fly while others crawl.

The wind knocks at my house
Loneliness creeps into every crevice.
And the simple question "for what?"
I can't find the answer.
It is not important, then what?
Maybe we are someone's target.
Turn around - on the road there.
Turn around, turn around
And go through me like a red thread.
I don't know who you are and what kind of bear the cross.
Turn around, I'm here.

People easily change, not to change them.

Try to remember death, not to waste time. And suddenly you're a year will already be in the grave?