Текст песни Мертвий Півень - Етюд з воронами

There is so much irreal in this world
We are looking for a solid ground foundation.
December beer near the cathedral (2)
And the gray day is a young boss, a new man.

Thaw as a tear over the city line
Buses come and go.
And in our clusters of clay (2)
There is a bitter bitterness to file.

We have been so eager for this warmth
Like the extinct pasture of grapes.
Crows are these little black angels,
Gather a black board on the pediment.

And the snow is drowning, in which it is so mixed up
Sand and salt are hard earthly measures.
And we are in the cold melting heat of the rain (2)
And we see how they have black wings