Текст песни Кирилл Стрекалов - Четверть века

I'll cut your name on your wrist
and I will be ridiculed by you
I'm already tired of all these dances
Under the bright red moon

every phrase, every little thing
aims precisely at the temple
I already forgot how to write about anything
I am writing about you already in store

give me the sky, give me the wind
away from forgotten roots
I forgot who I was and forgot who I was not
it's time to collect the stones

And here I am standing in front of you
Again and again like a fool
And you're right: "Live for at least a quarter of a century,
Everything will be like this. "

I'll cut your name on your wrist
and I will be ridiculed by you
and when the fire happens on stage
will you call it a game

And a bystander involuntarily
Smiling will accelerate your pace
You understand - I do not care how it will be
It is important that it was not so

I'll cut your name on your wrist
And I will be ridiculed by you
I am alone today with this room
So I'm still alive

And like that bystander
Smiling singing about my
Only the sky is farther and farther away
And you dissolve in it