| There is one expert opinion according to which I am always boring and the same
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| So I've already tried everything: blues and tango, reggae, country, rock and diksi
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| In search of a new hit
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| Now I'm digging my fingers on the tambourine like an excavator
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| But panic, brother, I'm sinking like the Titanic
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| Because I have a march left, the only march left
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| For this here, for a happy paradise that celebrates misery in full splendor
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| I was left with a march, nothing but a march
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| The song is a bit strange, but time is scarce - give what you give
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| There is a certain impression that I have some moments in the verse
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| But that my sad rhymes negatively affect the psyche
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| I am good, they say, in ballads
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| I would touch the real Saddam with them
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| But in rhythm, I’m, um, still not experienced enough. |
| Is it ?!
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| So should I try the march? |
| Simply march
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| For this here, for a happy flock that will gladly soften in the dark
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| I have a march left, only one more march
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| The song is a little pathetic, but the time is right - give what you give
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| They say that the song sustained us. |
| And I personally advocate that thesis
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| But now, for example, I am nervous, I have a shiver like a blind man at a table
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| This is a shaky state
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| Pavarotti doesn't maintain that anymore
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| Not to mention poor me. |
| Go, those are naive hopes
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| But maybe there will be a march, maybe there will be a march
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| For this, a happy herd is here, which is on its own only when it is hard
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| I have a march left, only another march
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| Yes, the song is miserable, but the times are extraordinary - give what you give
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| So let me try another march, short - clear march
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| For this here, lazy to the core whose motto is "suffer and growl"
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| I have a march left, nothing, just a march
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| Basically, what could be said, but time has expired - give what you give
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| March, you fucking rude father |