They made the head of the cry, weaved yarn from their veins.
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Yes, the face began to look like a face, but we did not notice this theft.
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They absolved the sins of other people's wives, they took out the sky from the sieve,
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They offered bread to the icons, yes, our icons have long been full.
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Weddings fell asleep with love, yes, the grooms did not live up to the night.
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Everyone fell, and our women went to where it was longer, yes, shorter.
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They beat themselves on the chest, yes, in tears, opened their mouths to the sunset,
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They drank from the muddy puddles of dreams, yes, they didn’t all become goats, brother.
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Crows dance Russian tango, Russian tango.
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Russian tango without bottom and crown, Russian tango.
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Who will cover this dirt with snow, who will powder our raw meat.
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Who will fill this light with a trace, who will fill it with kvass from a vein.
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Oh, yes, our songs were printed in letters, but they were sewn from the underpants of heroes.
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I got lost among these formations, yes, I don’t understand anything - even crack.
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We turned at the threshold of the house, when the doors and windows are open,
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Where everything is painfully loved, familiar, where the wolves are safe, and the sheep are full.
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And we shouted: "Ah, we are the coolest!" |
we carry our fingers ahead of us!
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But we young did not know that only eggs are cool.
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Crows dance Russian tango, Russian tango.
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Russian tango without bottom and crown, Russian tango.
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Eh, it's hard to flush the toilet up to the sky, it's easier to cover it all with obscenities.
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Baba Vera, was or was I not your fiancé or brother?
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Hug us, Granny Vera, stretch out your gray hands,
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I was clear to the sky, I was not faithful, but we are also a little Russia. |