From wide trousers I will get what I kept.
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That which he nurtured, that which is from the depths.
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What is worthy, what is theirs.
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What, if put, is worth a monument.
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A kind of Savior on Blood.
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What is dangerous is what is in the chest.
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That which beats, breaks, buzzes.
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Circles around the swamp, the crocodile left.
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In the cabin, the echo of the Kursk Bulge, Gelik is on the way.
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Two clips from the hand,
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Wings, feathers, fangs, shells, fins.
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Rosary from Paul, Gospel of Luke.
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Side by side with the black baron.
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He smacked so hard that Wrangel's boots flew off.
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It's not that weaklings are now, it's just a comfort zone,
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Coffee and crack on the burners, Moscow covered with Bork.
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Someone's granddaughter barely made it to the bard after the abortion.
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On a direct flight to New York,
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The heel of the parliament with a slide, departed from the regulations,
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They diluted with chlorine.
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You don't have to do it, big brother fires everything vigilantly.
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Salam, Sakhalin, drop the container with caviar.
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And then these steaks do not stick.
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They littered the wedding with money
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Instead of cleaning.
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I'm here until the end of the business, epta,
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Yes, such a business kerya,
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I crush the scope of the Russian temperament of a wild beast.
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He changed his shell for feathers, I'm still in Moscow.
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From Luke he returned to the Gospel of Matthew.
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Not that I would hide in a salad, but my fairy is driving.
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Exactly I sow, I love Russia. |
Drop the landing gear, yea!
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From wide trousers I will get what I kept.
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That which he nurtured, that which is from the depths.
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What is worthy, what is theirs.
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What, if put, is worth a monument.
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A kind of Savior on Blood. |
What is dangerous is what is in the chest.
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That which beats, breaks, buzzes.
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Circles around the swamp, the crocodile left.
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In the cabin echo of the Kursk Bulge. |
And well, pile on!
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Gelik is on the way. |
Two clips from the hand,
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Wings, feathers, fangs, shells, fins.
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Then her heels came off,
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At customs, I swallowed two pieces of flour.
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Salam, great-grandchildren, who is the main type here.
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From wide shatnin, a dashing citizen.
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What is heard? |