Текст песни Янка - Столетний дождь

A century of rain ...
     Rubber boot in the wet sand.
     Eyes are on a puddle ceiling.
     Burned down cheerful bred.
     Grappled, laughing, rings of misfortune.

     A century of rain ...
     Hope spring lost a dream
     And the throats of great anguish.
     Nails on the wall scrapet aprel,
     As though behind the wall there are flowers,
     How to see them from a height.

     A century of rain ...
     We have lived a hundred years - I'm ready for lunch
     From the soap bubbles of a wet day,
     From the bones of puzzled verses,
     From memory from the soles of boots,
     Salted with fire crystals.

     A century of rain ...
     On a quiet strip of words
     And crumpled foliage.
     The last sentence was fulfilled,
     All contributions for Aprel are taken up
     And dreams hang over spring.

     A century of rain ...
     A century of rain ...
     A century of rain ...