| Thirty ninth tram
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| Along the sloping bridges of Moscow
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| Taken to the streets May
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| In green attire.
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| And from metro to Univer
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| He dressed the squares with a hundred winds.
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| Drowning in the sun's dust,
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| The couple entered the boulevards.
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| Swans there, swans there
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| Ride along mud-covered ponds
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| Sun spots on the backs
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| And the spots ride absolutely free
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| There - here.
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| The swans are there with an appetite
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| Eat a white loaf
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| With the thought of
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| What to live in a puddle
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| Freedom and flight are worse
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| But
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| They have a white loaf.
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| Thirty-ninth tram
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| If you really, really want
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| Will fly like a swan in the sky
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| And look into the eyes of the night.
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| In red and white thirty-nine
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| Damn horned - wagon driver,
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| And the car, it seems to me, is winged
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| And other cars are not a brother.
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| Jump on the tram, but don't yawn
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| Grass broke through at star crossroads
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| Through the silver rails
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| And complicates the flight
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| The sky is Moscow.
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| Jump on the tram, don't forget -
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| Directs the devil - varmint
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| This tram
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| Left - right
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| But there is no control over him:
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| No one checks the rights here.
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| the thirty-ninth ark
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| Rented out to couples in love
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| And keeps running
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| Through the skies and boulevards,
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| The meal of the spirit, the trembling of the flesh -
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| Thirty-ninth weaves and fastens
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| Threads of paths, flying to the full onor,
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| Not resting in the depot! |