Тату

White Robe

Feeling ugly, looking pretty
Yellow ribbons, black graffiti
Word is written, bond is broken
No big secret left unspoken
Sun is painted in the corner
But it’s never getting warmer
All the lies they keep on selling
But you never check the spelling

Flying bullets hit the targets
Wings and halos, five to seven
In this white robe, through the darkness
Para-gliding back to heaven
Flying bullets hit the targets
Wings and halos, five to seven
In this white robe, through the darkness
Para-gliding back to heaven

Time is running we are sitting
Back together, just for splitting
You are crying in the corner
Always next and never former
Open up and let me hear it
Former body, future spirit
Brain is useless, chair is rocking
Open doors for dead man walking

Flying bullets hit the targets
Wings and halos, five to seven
In this white robe, through the darkness
Para-gliding back to heaven
Flying bullets hit the targets
Wings and halos, five to seven
In this white robe, through the darkness
Para-gliding back to heaven