| Spring has come, and it has become warmer in the soul
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| Large icicles on the head fall from the roof
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| Snow gradually melts and poop is visible
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| Snowdrops are not to be seen among the dirty porridge
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| Fascists celebrate Adolf's birthday
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| The sun only bakes their bald head with rays
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| Blind man's operas are found in forest areas
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| The incomprehensible Vasily became a victim of violence
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| The girls are all beautiful, nipples stick out
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| Prostitutes in Khimki do not make discounts and do not lend
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| I want to run out into the yard and shout loudly,
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| But I'm not brought up that way
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| Spring is the time for love and oral sex
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| This is when the doors are slightly ajar in the heart
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| Spring is the time for whoredom and ridiculous excuses
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| You gave her Swarovski, and she was painted for three
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| The rooks are coming, and I want to live again,
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| And not to crush someone's fucker with your feet
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| Put the 20th rollers, if they fit
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| From the speakers the sound is like in the Hall of Columns
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| Soon a barbecue on a fire, a blue makhach, a dacha,
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| In the meantime, March 8, bouquets, dog cold
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| On the street srach, again soiled jeans
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| At night, the cats under the windows yelled gloomily
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| Ball game on the playground
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| Bears crawl out of the den after hibernation
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| The sun is reflected in dirty puddles
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| Spring warms the soul, next to the body warms the pillow
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| May put out dangerous toys for someone
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| Aluminum spoons, grandmother's icons disappeared
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| Clap your hands and take off your mittens
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| Cold is trapped, the edge of the sky is visible
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| Spring has come, all warm
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| A cat in the sun to bask in the high
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| Hopes are born in May, but they beat against the tile
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| I'm on the microphone in the basement
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| Spring has come, all warm
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| A cat in the sun to bask in the high
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| Hopes are born in May, but they beat against the tile
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| I rejoice in spring as if I were small
|
| Spring has come, all warm
|
| A cat in the sun to bask in the high
|
| Hopes are born in May, but they beat against the tile
|
| I'm on the microphone in the basement
|
| Spring has come, all warm
|
| A cat in the sun to bask in the high
|
| Hopes are born in May, but they beat against the tile
|
| I rejoice in spring as if I were small |