| Ivan Chelovenov was a simple man
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| and just looked at the light
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| and his "yes" was - the real "yes"
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| and "no" is the real "no"
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| and he knew what would happen to him
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| from eight to five and what happens after five
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| and if a mountain got in the way
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| he did not try to bypass her
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| Ivan Chelovenov returned home
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| on the site where the garbage chute
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| he saw death staring out of the hatch
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| and realized that he would die tomorrow
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| he took his notebook and wrote to her to come
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| tomorrow at twelve o'clock sharp
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| he couldn't stand unfinished business
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| and wasted words
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| I know this woman:
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| some call her - freedom
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| to others she is just fate
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| and if for the first - she is a slave
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| the second she is a holy judge
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| I know this woman...
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| I know this woman...
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| Ivan Chelovenov shaved his face
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| put on your best tie and wait
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| calm and bright and scared of death
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| and forgot where he lives
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| he waited a long time, but then he got tired
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| wait in vain and left
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| and meeting death, he did not greet her
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| as with everyone who pierced him
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| I know this woman:
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| some call her - freedom
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| to others she is just fate
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| and if for the first - she is a slave
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| the second she is a holy judge
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| and the first try to capture her
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| and make them wash their socks,
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| but the second ones know that decay is decay
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| and live without much anguish |