Lyrics Фёдоров Олег - Пожелтела моя голова

My head turned yellow
The Firebird flew south.
Falling foliage circles
Along the alleys of the night capital.

I listen to her words
When it’s bad to sleep,
Not yet silent houses
That goggles in the darkness of the eye sockets.

There's a green night light on
The longest before morning, it happens
There is the same as me, old man
The age does not pass its long,

Writes something with a pen in a notebook,
Like an old-fashioned storyteller,
I would like to play him
If I were suitable for the game.

I've been living like this for many years
Barnaul, in your palm.
Wake up to meet the dawn
An observer to an outsider.