Текст песни Михаил Михайлов - Разговор с БТРом
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Карбюратору, как и легким, не хватает кислорода.
Нет ни моих, ни лошадиных сил.
Руль, обмотанный бинтами, рвет ладони (и взял же моду?!)
Ну что ты взбесился?! Я же тебя просил…
С пылью пот со лба сползает, и в глаза, их разъедает.
Камни шины разгрызают вдрызг.
Тошно? Не стони так тонко, ты же, БэТр, не девчонка.
Так держись, нельзя нам нынче вниз!
Припев:
А дойдем, от пыли всю седую, я тебя,
Родимая броня, крепко обниму и расцелую,
Точно морду мокрую коня.
Впереди, задохнувшись, заглохла чья-то броня,
И теперь там плохо, но, молодчага, носом ее попер.
Только держаться, надо держаться!
На перевале дам отдышаться,
Ты ведь все можешь, бог, а не транспортер!
На верхотуре в тысячу метров все я забуду
Про солнце и ветры, буду, как матерь возле твоих я ран.
К черту сухпай и воду, и реку, ты не машина, как человек ты.
Выдержи рейс последний на Чагчаран!
Припев.
Может за этим вот поворотом,
Кратко откашлялась пулеметом эта вот молчаливая гора.
Бронежилета чуть не хватило, прямо под горло пуля прошила,
Кольку прошила с нашего двора.
Как он рисково прыгал на мото?! В джинсах на танцы, что ни суббота.
Слабо он, БэТР, тебе без забот знаком.
Жили вы с Колькой ближе, чем братья, и умирал он в твоих объятьях.
Фото ты носишь над смотровым стеклом.
Припев.
Крепко обниму и расцелую, точно морду мокрую коня
Carburetor, like light, does not have enough oxygen.
There are neither mine nor horsepower.
The steering wheel, wrapped in bandages, tears his hands (and took the same fashion ?!)
Why are you so mad ?! I asked you ...
With dust, sweat from his forehead slides, and into the eyes, they corrode.
The stones of the bus are gnawing in the face.
It's sickening? Do not stoop so thinly, you, BaTr, are not a girl.
So hold on, we can not go down today!
Chorus:
And we'll get there, from dust, all gray, I'll take you,
My dear armor, I will firmly embrace and kiss,
The muzzle is like a wet horse.
Ahead, suffocated, stagnated someone's armor,
And now there it is bad, but, molodchaga, with her nose poper.
Just hold on, you have to hold on!
At the pass I'll give a little breath,
You can do everything, God, not a transporter!
On the summit of a thousand meters all I will forget
About the sun and the winds, I'll be like a mother near your wounds.
To hell with the water and the river, you're not a machine, like a human being.
Survive the last flight to Chagcharan!
Chorus.
Maybe for this one turn,
The silent mountain cleared her throat briefly.
The bulletproof vest was almost not enough, right under the throat bullet proshila,
Kolka pierced from our yard.
How he risked jumping on moto ?! In jeans for dancing, that's not Saturday.
He is weak, BTR, you are familiar without cares.
You lived with Kolka closer than the brothers, and he died in your arms.
The photo you wear over the sight glass.
Chorus.
I'll hug and kiss, as if a wet horse's face
There are neither mine nor horsepower.
The steering wheel, wrapped in bandages, tears his hands (and took the same fashion ?!)
Why are you so mad ?! I asked you ...
With dust, sweat from his forehead slides, and into the eyes, they corrode.
The stones of the bus are gnawing in the face.
It's sickening? Do not stoop so thinly, you, BaTr, are not a girl.
So hold on, we can not go down today!
Chorus:
And we'll get there, from dust, all gray, I'll take you,
My dear armor, I will firmly embrace and kiss,
The muzzle is like a wet horse.
Ahead, suffocated, stagnated someone's armor,
And now there it is bad, but, molodchaga, with her nose poper.
Just hold on, you have to hold on!
At the pass I'll give a little breath,
You can do everything, God, not a transporter!
On the summit of a thousand meters all I will forget
About the sun and the winds, I'll be like a mother near your wounds.
To hell with the water and the river, you're not a machine, like a human being.
Survive the last flight to Chagcharan!
Chorus.
Maybe for this one turn,
The silent mountain cleared her throat briefly.
The bulletproof vest was almost not enough, right under the throat bullet proshila,
Kolka pierced from our yard.
How he risked jumping on moto ?! In jeans for dancing, that's not Saturday.
He is weak, BTR, you are familiar without cares.
You lived with Kolka closer than the brothers, and he died in your arms.
The photo you wear over the sight glass.
Chorus.
I'll hug and kiss, as if a wet horse's face