Lyrics Дервиш - Гитарист

Rain bangs on the boulevards, beating the rhythm
Muddy light cars float by
While you're hiding from the drops, you run along the sidewalk,
I'll put out the cigar and pick up the guitar

I do not chase the fee, why fanfare
Sometimes I ride, raising the bank on senior pairs
Knights of glasses and a crusade trip to the walls of the bar
Stopped off early in the morning - no zapary

For some time now, all this is my everyday scenario.
Not so that I love it, just got used over the years
Accustomed not seen by anyone, cheerfully walking into the passage
I'm used to playing a chord for you

I'm a blotter in your company of rainbow blots
They'll leave a mark on me as if I were cheese
Deca is the home of my soul, strings are my family
With one finger I will give you the most difficult solyak

Let short hair grow gray at the temple
Let her tenth year in a row I dream of her meek voice
Let the wrinkles distort my real look.
But deep down I'm young, I'm still young

This season is very rainy, but perhaps bearable
Chills. Grayness Dampness. Autumn.
Sometimes a father asks for a gypsy for his son.
Chills. Grayness Dampness. Autumn.

Through passages, in the slums, under the rows of windows
Already that year my coat tells you a lot
Good kids get up from the seats, just get on the bus
sit still girl, I'm only a little over forty

Maybe a little lisping, or a little nasal
But my lines are what I myself suffered.
From the youth on the trains, walked in the forest near the station
Until I lost my way so that the sledcher would not find

I remember meeting you last year together.
How, sitting by your bed, whispered songs
President's speeches that hope gave us over
But here's the chimes you have not heard

Let short hair grow gray at the temple
Let her tenth year in a row I dream of her meek voice
Let the wrinkles distort my real look.
But deep down I'm young, I'm still young

Children freeze listening to motifs.
But an adult will not notice the muted satire here.
I'll go up and throw a tunic on the go
You are my favorite city
I am your favorite resident ...

Let short hair grow gray at the temple
Let her tenth year in a row I dream of her meek voice
Let the wrinkles distort my real look.
But deep down I'm young, I'm still young

One day I will break and smash the guitar to the ground
Chills. Grayness Dampness. Autumn.
Unnamed disease mows us all under the root
Chills. Grayness Dampness. Autumn.