| In the yellow stained walls,
|
| In the dirty news of "Vesti"
|
| Again I fall asleep in the city of N.
|
| The rain does not sleep this night,
|
| AIDS washes away from the windows,
|
| The cat guards the old skinny rat.
|
| Kvely tavern,
|
| Sweaty from fights
|
| She shudders - to reach the morning ...
|
| shreds of newspapers,
|
| royal portrait,
|
| And the toilet is boarded up tightly.
|
| In the city of N concert,
|
| Eight warehouses and churches,
|
| A sharp jump in all prices
|
| In the city of N…
|
| But sure
|
| Entrepreneurs -
|
| Two towels for the holiday
|
| Wafer.
|
| We are not slaves
|
| Slaves are not us
|
| We are the mind, honor and conscience of our era.
|
| We are not slaves
|
| Slaves are not us
|
| We are the masters of the prison given to us.
|
| The terrible rattle of tin millstones,
|
| Eat less often - I would have made a stomach,
|
| Chewing gum goons chew,
|
| Enemies razhie citizens are squeezing.
|
| A waxed tick tickles the paschenok.
|
| Khrushchev's cloak is actually a thing ...
|
| Happy in the gap is the beggar Koschei,
|
| The man clicked a pinch of cabbage soup.
|
| Life is the sound of a driven bread slicer
|
| The prize for malice is a trip abroad.
|
| The boardroom is a zombie feast
|
| Showdown of convicts slaughtered in the zone.
|
| N-sky raw maternity hospital,
|
| Cemetery around the corner.
|
| The New Democrats are going to close the city committee.
|
| Pack of hungry dogs
|
| The rags are tearing a piece,
|
| Gray sunflower in it
|
| It dried up a long time ago.
|
| Mayor or Khan
|
| Is it godfather
|
| Mat-remat and husk seeds ...
|
| The glass clinked
|
| Blood at the stall
|
| The bug crawls on the back -
|
| Do not brush away.
|
| Headquarters shelupony cars rustle,
|
| Only she is allowed to breathe on the balloon...
|
| Just think, to throw a scraper in the neck,
|
| Get moving, Shevardnadze, with a decision!
|
| It is an honor to slurp like a human…
|
| How is Chazov now being treated for swagger?
|
| And what does Shushkevich read in the evening?
|
| A well-fed Kravchuk chirps with the servants. |
| (*)
|
| The queue in Chop, the pitching in Tkvarcheli.
|
| The shirt is sewn, peaceful, terrible ...
|
| Conscience is twisted, brightened by congresses,
|
| Scabrous skud full of songs,
|
| The rasstrigi dominate the KP-SS.
|
| In the city N frenzy,
|
| Hands on irons
|
| A stump rushes to the sun,
|
| On the sides of the stack ...
|
| In the yellow stained walls,
|
| In the dirty news of "Vesti"
|
| Again I fall asleep in the city of N ...
|
| Again I fall asleep in the city of N ...
|
| (*) Option: Honest Kravchuk chirps with servants,
|
| Sit on the windowsill
|
| Press your eyes to your lips.
|
| Soon it will start to shine
|
| Don't leave us all.
|
| Do not shed tears in vain,
|
| You will dream of me
|
| Thick hair
|
| On the field sheet.
|
| Don't follow me-
|
| Move your eyes.
|
| Don't say goodbye.
|
| We have everything ahead. |