Текст песни Редкая птица - Старая кровать

Vladimir Muromtsev

A cheerful husband came home
He found his wife with her lover
He killed a huge knife
Both on the spot.
What to do next, how to be here?
He drank beer, he drank vodka,
And finally went to bed
On an old bed.

Old bed
Old bed
He finally went to bed
On an old bed.

And he sees a dream - he himself is killed,
The hole is large in the stomach,
And next to the soul sits,
Like a glass already.
And the soul tells him:
"Why did you arrange a war,
After all, he deceived more than once
And friend and wife.

Old bed
Old bed
You yourself deceived on it
Good wife.

Now you are a bullet hole
You lie alone in the wasteland
And I will have an orphan
Wander around the ground. "
So it became sorry for the orphan,
That he could not calm down tears
Woke up - sees in reality
Only an old bed.

Old bed
Old bed
Woke up - sees in reality
Only an old bed.

He looked around - there are no corpses,
And on the table - a canning knife,
And it cleared up in my head -
Here the truth is not a penny.
The wife left the drunkard
Only the suitcase managed to take,
There was a table, a canned knife
And the old bed.

Old bed
Old bed
There was a table, a canned knife
And the old bed.

Old bed
Old bed
There was a table, a canning knife,
Empty glass and fish tail,
Without the handle of the pavement
And the old bed.