| An old colonel with a crazy lapdog lives quietly on the seventh floor.
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| He hardly reads books and newspapers, and no longer dreams
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| About snow-covered clouds, where very brave birds live,
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| Whose chicks he held in his hands and taught to fly without fear of breaking.
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| Not afraid to break.
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| An old colonel in a terry robe, waiting for news by the TV.
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| And he does not dream of a greater reward, not feeling the same passions.
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| And not remembering the clouds where very brave birds live.
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| Their chicks, which he held in his hands, and taught to fly without fear of breaking.
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| Forward, straight to the sun
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| He deserved a completely different old age.
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| Forward, straight to the sun
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| What a small thing.
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| Forward, straight to the sun
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| He deserved a completely different old age.
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| Forward, straight to the sun
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| What a small thing.
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| What a little
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| The old colonel will go unnoticed to heaven with a candle in his hands.
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| In the form of a bright blue dress, slowly melting in thick clouds.
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| He knows that very brave birds are waiting for him and miss him,
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| Their chicks all flew apart, not being afraid to break!
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| Forward, straight to the sun
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| He deserved a completely different old age.
|
| Forward, straight to the sun
|
| What a small thing.
|
| Forward, straight to the sun
|
| He deserved a completely different old age.
|
| Forward, straight to the sun
|
| What a small thing.
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| What a little
|
| Forward, straight to the sun
|
| He deserved a completely different old age
|
| Forward, straight to the sun
|
| What a small thing.
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| An old colonel with a crazy lapdog lives quietly on the seventh floor.
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| He hardly reads books and newspapers, and he no longer dreams, already. |