My pain, my share


Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.

Festivals without drying up flocks
Sundresses to the edge of paradise
Searching for the essence
With loved ones on the same path
Tear the net, no fear
Cuts the Rubik's Cube, tear off the shirt
Yah! They gasp, haw and cry in front of the blockhead
They build salt machinations,
Tears filled his eyes.
Calm down! Don't pull the threads
You won't tear those wicks
Flags, torches on the platoon
On the flank of the angels in the impudent with the naked truth
Freedom is given, those who are opposite are turned in the face
With barking evil retreating to the edge
Our roofs that have become higher
Closer to the birds! Give me a lift
Yes, they were wrong. And far from red
Passengers with oiled skis
Pompous, off-road raised
Yes, and wrinkles are burned out on the faces
We set it on fire and did not put it out
In the foam in the soap in the field in the dust
Fumbled from the peaks to the shallows
Boasted with all their might
And insomnia did not leave the calm.
Face to face meeting
Large portions, sun-roasted
Not smelling the soil, not seeing the shores
Whose path is shorter - believed without words
Gotta be quick, not rush
Too late to gild the metal if it has oxidized
Who cares without risk
And who smiles with a threat at the temple ...

My pain, my share
Whose colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it.
Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white. My pain, my share
Colts whose aim is in the head?
Holili wrong , or cherished .
Then delineate chalk obuyut in white .

Festival zasyhaya not pack
Sundresses in the edge of paradise
Ryskaya in the search for the essence
With close on the same path
Tearing network no fear
Rubik's Cube cuts, tear off his shirt
Yah! On gasp, and wept before nahavayut plahayu
Build salted intrigues,
Zamozolili eyes with tears.
Calm down! Do not pull the thread
Not the wick will tear
On edge flags, torches
Angels on the wing in a brazen with the naked truth
Give freedom, those who are against the gate Morden
With barking angry retreating to the edge
Our roofs that were higher
To the birds closer! same plant
Yes, sin. And not red
Passengers with lubricated skis
Napyzhennye on the roads grew
Yes and wrinkles burned rozhah
Podsozhgli we are not extinguished
In a foam soap box dust
Rummaged from the tops of the rocks and to
Strutted that there are forces
And insomnia did not leave calm.
Meeting face-to-face
Large portions of fried sun
Not feeling the soil, not seeing the coast
Whose path is shorter - believed without words
We must keep pace and not rush
Late gold metal, if it is oxidized
Who cares without risk
And who is the threat to his temple smiling ...

My pain, my share
Colts whose aim is in the head?
Holili wrong , or cherished .
Then delineate chalk obuyut in white .

My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?


They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.
Festivals do not dry out flocks, sundresses to the edge of paradise,
Scouring for the essence, with loved ones on the same path.
Tear the net, there is no fear. Cuts the Rubik's Cube, tear off the shirt.
Yah! They gasp, haw and cry in front of the blockhead.
They build salty intrigues, eyes are calloused with tears.
Calm down! Don't pull the thread! You won't break those wicks.
Flags, torches are on the platoon. On the flank of the angels, insolent, with the naked truth
They give freedom, those who are opposite are turned back in the face.
Barking, angry, retreating to the edge of our roofs that have become higher,
Closer to the birds! Plant it! Yes, they were wrong. And far from red.
Passengers with oiled skis, puffed up, grown up on the roads.
Yes, and wrinkles are burned out on the faces. We set it on fire and didn't put it out.
In the foam in the soap, in the field, in the dust, they fumbled from the peaks to the shallows.
They swaggered with all their might. And insomnia did not leave the calm.
Meeting face to face. Large portions, sun-roasted.
Not smelling the soil, not seeing the shores. Whose path is shorter - they believed without words!
You have to be quick, not rush!
It is too late to gild the metal if it has oxidized.
Who cares without risk

Who cares without risk
And who smiles with a threat at the temple.
My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.
My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.
My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.
My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.

My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.

Festivals do not dry out flocks, sundresses to the edge of paradise,
Scouring for the essence, with loved ones on the same path.
Tear the net, there is no fear. Cuts the Rubik's Cube, tear off the shirt.
Yah! They gasp, haw and cry in front of the blockhead.

They build salty intrigues, eyes are calloused with tears.
Calm down! Don't pull the thread! You won't break those wicks.
Flags, torches are on the platoon. On the flank of the angels, insolent, with the naked truth
They give freedom, those who are opposite are turned back in the face.

Barking, angry, retreating to the edge of our roofs that have become higher,
Closer to the birds! Plant it! Yes, they were wrong. And far from red.
Passengers with oiled skis, puffed up, grown up on the roads.
Yes, and wrinkles are burned out on the faces. We set it on fire and didn't put it out.

In the foam in the soap, in the field, in the dust, they fumbled from the peaks to the shallows.
They swaggered with all their might. And insomnia did not leave the calm.
Meeting face to face. Large portions, sun-roasted.
Not smelling the soil, not seeing the shores. Whose path is shorter - they believed without words!

You have to be quick, not rush!
It is too late to gild the metal if it has oxidized.
Who cares without risk

Who cares without risk
And who smiles with a threat at the temple.

My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.
My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.

My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.
My pain, my share. Whose Colts are aimed at the head?
They didn’t cherish it, or they cherished it. Then they will outline with chalk, shod in white.

Sand people - my pain video