Текст песни Яна Павлова и Джангл - Мастер

I'm walking in the city center
Drunk, angry, proud
I toss under the feet of the sick with fire
Yellow flowers
Past trams fly by
I'm shooting on the benches
In the hands of your crumpled card -
Stolen dreams ...
My gods, it's cold!
I give myself to Woland
My gods, poison me!
Bring back my Master!
In a small, small cell
I'm not a little girl, not a girl
Jerk nervously matches
O thin heels
In black and white our days
Higher and higher, whatever one may say
I know where we'll be tomorrow, we
Just me and you
My gods, it's cold!
I give myself to Woland
My gods, poison me!
Bring back my Master!