Sutra of axing ice (BG)
This is not a song – it's a step in the ford,
Saber of mescaline, heather honey,
Sutra of axing ice – in order to the word was
again,
In order to the ice started a move,
Faith and hope are clanging teeth in the bushes –
Hare-Hare.
Her won't be need to listen, won't be need to wait,
Won't be need to rehearse, no need to write,
She does not need to do a master –
She's Mother of all the words, herself to herself the master.
White mare sharpens hoofs and waits –
Hare-Hare…
Children of pepsi-cola deservedly are going away to sleep,
And autumn of the patriarch lasts so long
That it risks to turn into spring.
Hey!
So it's not a song, it's a step in the ford,
Saber of mescaline, a moving ice,
This is new snow on the lips,
This is revenge of a partisan, a sutra of axing ice,
See you tomorrow, we're moving now to the rise
Hey, Hare-Hare…
And here are flying our souls, as Japanese sailors in
searches of dry land,
And the world is ever more deaf, and Japanese sailors
in searches of dry land,
Japanese sailors in searches of dry land,
Japanese sailors… Hi!
Japanese sailors… Hi!
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