Сон, навеянный полетом совы
Пусть будет вне очереди, а то как вспомнила так и опять забуду. Леша — тебе.
But there's no sense crying over every mistake
You just keep on trying till you run out of cake
And the science gets done and you make a neat gun
For the people who are still alive.
But there's no sense crying over every mistake
You just keep on trying till you run out of cake
And the science gets done and you make a neat gun
For the people who are still alive.