Текст песни Борис ГРЕБЕНЩИКОВ - Праздник Урожая Во Дворце Труда

No matter how much we sang, it is all the same that we were silent, Therefore, our holy water became dead. The wheels of sadness have passed over us - And here we go to the Harvest Festival at the Palace of Labor. It's time to dodge, but how to dodge? Get out of this zone? Pull the wires out of yourself? And Rosa Lespromkhoza and Maria Wedding Bird are ready to give everything they have for a ticket to the Harvest Festival in the Palace of Labor. We know the car is completely out of order. We know that there is no road and has never been here. Close your eyes so as not to see the Faun creeping across the field, A star that has fallen from the sky knocks at the door - Harvest Festival in the Palace of Labor! Red, like a flag, black soot, Trains torn to rubbish in ancient ruins. Under the feet of passers-by - the canvases of the Hermitage, the Conductor is absolutely deaf - Harvest Festival in the Palace of Labor. No matter how much we sang, it is all the same that we were silent, Therefore, our Holy water became dead. And on a starry night I will be waiting on the pier, We are at the very beginning - Harvest Festival in the Palace of Labor.