Lyrics На - Фотках

Double v:
Old pictures
On the phone and in the computer
They are accidentally swollen, it happens
And on such a wave
Those days and evenings are remembered again,
In the spring, when you and I walked through the streets of Moscow.
Poorly made images captured the past,
They remind you that everything was possible
About what was close, but never happened,
But the heart beats the same as then beating.
Garden Ring, light of lanterns fell on the asphalt,
With Matsu's advertising on Hanukka, a stupid poster,
Against his background, you smile from the darkness,
“Jewish girl from hell,” we still laughed.
You then took my arm while you went to the subway,
They talked about something, I was good.
On the escalator you stood nearby, but I did not dare to hug,
Then we parted, I saddened, as always, I got drunk.

Another is when they sat in one pub,
I took pictures, you were hiding behind a mug of tea.
It was March eighth, I gave flowers, and something else,
Visitors in the bar were some idiots
Couples, marginals, intelligentsia,
And I only looked at you, and my heart sank ...
Yes, there was time, but I did not think that everything would be like that.
Well, okay, every day you are disappointed in people.

Another photo is hung by Yegor on Dere.
You are there, behind my shoulder, not in the focus, face in the dark,
I'm in a hat, shouting into the camera, as always ...
Well then there was still hope, but then.
Now everything is very clear, you have someone,
I am sitting alone, I look at the pictures, you can’t climb on you.
I smoke a lot, but quit drinking if you are interested.
And somewhere inside there is still hope, to be honest.

Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.
Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.

i1:
Then we hugged, and fell asleep,
I remember you all in the slightest details.
What do you not finish the album in any way?
And here I am sticking under the green shit
In the morning.
Yes, all this is not cool.
It seemed that you understand everything, as if.
I was upset when it was not always.
But did not think
What I can’t live without you.
Autumn almost came
And thoughts about you take my brain.
And minor grievances, and misunderstandings,
This is, after all, in order
Of things.
There is no ideal relationship.
You are not a saint, and I'm not a saint
But life is completely unable to take out
When you are not next to me.
We have almost no joint photos,
But only a song
Vicious sense,
Which was somehow recorded spontaneously,
In a fit of spring post-Ugar.
I look at the photo where you are alone
Everything has now become absolutely clear
And I'm waiting for when
You finally finally
You will come back from your homeland.

Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.
Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.

Babangida:
I'm a phantom, I almost never take pictures like Bender Ostap,
But I have enough of your photos
Then they were still printed on a photo paper that summer
We were tightly kumaril, they were in Moscow, then in Kalika,
And I still keep the atmosphere of that fucker in my memory.
Fate bends us, and scattered in different corners.
You have my own life, I torment my affairs.
Of course, I was young and stupid then
But he would give a lot to go there again,
To be inside these photos.
Now I understand that in vain I spent all this time,
Although he could be with you.
But maybe I'll be back
If you remember me.

Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.
Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.
Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.
Today in the pictures, tomorrow, under vodka,
Or a beer, under me, on a bunk.
On the bunk
On the bunk

On the bunk