Текст песни Виктор Петлюра - никогда больше папа не придет домой....

Photograph
Lyrics: V. Sorokin
Music: V. Petlyura
Exec .: Victor Petlyura

Black and white photographs of old glass,
Tape black area and a small son,
It is a question of the same sets simple:
Dad, though tomorrow may you come home?

Mom says you serve somewhere far away,
He says that you love us, and looking out the window,
And then quietly crying in the room alone,
And a handkerchief soaked hides, just trembling hand.
And then quietly crying in the room alone,
And a handkerchief soaked hides, just trembling hand.

And yesterday in the courtyard of a neighbor Petka said
What you really do not have to light the house, he heard,
Dad, this is not true, coming soon,
And my mother would laugh again at the door.
Dad, this is not true, coming soon,
And my mother would laugh again at the door.

Photograph of glass, a look so tired,
Tape black area and a wreath withered,
Son stands, and next to my mother at the grave of one
Never Us Big Daddy is not coming home.