WLVS - Семь вёрст - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Seven miles is not a detour for a mad dog,

Seven years is a week.Where are we, my friend?

Along the edges of souls and the nooks and crannies of lines, it leads into the distance, beyond the horizon, a crooked note, beyond that sunset.

I will give away the numbers of all credit cards so that the dawn will shine on us like a lacerated wound.

Let the verse be considered beads, let the smoke float over the fatherland,

And we, as before, would only have one more breath of air than the rest,

Drown in wells of drunken eyes

landscape, laying a tablecloth on the roads

Yes, pour the wine of songs over it, and not the tears of the river over the porch.

For those locked - a key, for Theseus - a thread, for us - fate fluctuates

Turn off the road or their neck?Decide.

Well, while someone's world is drowning in fire,

Life is nothing more than dust in the ruins of Sokovia,

The gravestones of days gone by,

We are writing history.

While someone's world is burning,

Life is nothing more than dust in the ruins of Sokovia,

The gravestones of days gone by,

We are writing history.