Новый опус от ZLATKA RAGE
С легким опозданием, но тем не менее выкладываю очередную композицию. На этот раз речь идет о путешествиях, настойке и Родине.
THE ROAD SONG
Sunny morning, the sky is clear
And the grass is shining with dew
It's a fine day to ride far away
So get on the bus and start the booze
The wheels go round and the engine roars
As we try to reach the horizon
Like an arrow we fly beside the forests
Covering miles of road in a flash
Behold the bottles rise and nastoika runs down the throats
Through the landscapes of our Motherland irrepressibly we storm onwards
Made thousand miles and more to make
Striving to catch the fleeing sun
The only thing that can stop us
Is the booze supply runnig low
But the bottles are plenty, there's no reason to stop
So we ride to reach the horizon
Like a thunderstorm we roar
Drowning the engine noise in our cheers
Click to viewTHE ROAD SONG
Sunny morning, the sky is clear
And the grass is shining with dew
It's a fine day to ride far away
So get on the bus and start the booze
The wheels go round and the engine roars
As we try to reach the horizon
Like an arrow we fly beside the forests
Covering miles of road in a flash
Behold the bottles rise and nastoika runs down the throats
Through the landscapes of our Motherland irrepressibly we storm onwards
Made thousand miles and more to make
Striving to catch the fleeing sun
The only thing that can stop us
Is the booze supply runnig low
But the bottles are plenty, there's no reason to stop
So we ride to reach the horizon
Like a thunderstorm we roar
Drowning the engine noise in our cheers