Rebellious Souls.Oh, kíss me, boy! Мятежные души.The song is in English.
Oh, kíss me, bóy, on líps that dáre to dreám, Lost in a gólden, shíning sólar streám. In twílight’s húsh, where hídden pássions fláre, A jóy so bríght, a sécret wé both sháre. The wínk of fáte is swéeter than their síghs, Wé cast awáy the rúles and áll the líes. They sáy “don’t kíss if lóve is nót the príze,” But wé are dáncing with rebéllious eýes. No chaíns to bínd us, júst the spírit’s flíght, Kíss me bóldly, shíne like mórning líght! Come clóser now, let sécrets íntertwíne, In dépths of níght, wé build our ówn desígn. You’re nót bound dówn, and thát is whý I staý, In shádows where our dreáms can fréely pláy. With fíery líps and heárts that knów no feár, Wé break the sílence now that yóu are neár. Let friéndship igníte this beáutiful fláme, Rísking it áll, with nó one to bláme. Évery toúch creates a rádiant saínt, A pícture of ús that nó one can paínt. They sáy “don’t kíss if lóve is nót the príze,” But wé are dáncing with rebéllious eýes. No chaíns to bínd us, júst the spírit’s flíght, Kíss me bóldly, shíne like mórning líght! Kíss me bóldly... shíne like the sún... Our stóry has júst begún.
Oh, kíss me, bóy, on líps that dáre to dreám, Lost in a gólden, shíning sólar streám. In twílight’s húsh, where hídden pássions fláre, A jóy so bríght, a sécret wé both sháre. The wínk of fáte is swéeter than their síghs, Wé cast awáy the rúles and áll the líes. They sáy “don’t kíss if lóve is nót the príze,” But wé are dáncing with rebéllious eýes. No chaíns to bínd us, júst the spírit’s flíght, Kíss me bóldly, shíne like mórning líght! Come clóser now, let sécrets íntertwíne, In dépths of níght, wé build our ówn desígn. You’re nót bound dówn, and thát is whý I staý, In shádows where our dreáms can fréely pláy. With fíery líps and heárts that knów no feár, Wé break the sílence now that yóu are neár. Let friéndship igníte this beáutiful fláme, Rísking it áll, with nó one to bláme. Évery toúch creates a rádiant saínt, A pícture of ús that nó one can paínt. They sáy “don’t kíss if lóve is nót the príze,” But wé are dáncing with rebéllious eýes. No chaíns to bínd us, júst the spírit’s flíght, Kíss me bóldly, shíne like mórning líght! Kíss me bóldly... shíne like the sún... Our stóry has júst begún.