No extra long lines needed
|
I'll tell you for the burqa
|
Hold tight mothers of daughters
|
I am writing a song about spring
|
my favorite guitar
|
My best friend in this business
|
She roar like Niagara
|
And groans like a peasant plow
|
Let me be made of gold and bread,
|
But what did the years give me?
|
As soon as the "turnip" became wider
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And the beard became thicker
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I learned to cry less
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I became satisfied with the course of days
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Those who opened the heavenly valve
|
Get longer in the spring
|
Chorus: The days are getting longer
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The days are getting longer
|
The days are getting longer
|
And the skirts are shorter.
|
The days are getting longer
|
The days are getting longer
|
The days are getting longer
|
And the skirts are shorter.
|
Alena became a warehouse legend
|
On the minus first floor
|
The navel is not enough for happiness
|
Lish would be Zhora in the garage
|
Belov Andryusha is now a rapper
|
What else can be said here?
|
And I am an exhausted protector
|
Labor on the road to Ryazan
|
There among the pines on the mound
|
Petrovich lies for two hundred days
|
He came closer to his mother
|
Closer to your homeland
|
But not maternally
|
Sometimes her whip danced
|
So how is it not swearing here
|
And how can you not swear here
|
A biting wind blows through the window
|
Warm, open soul
|
There is a "gerl" at the crossroads
|
Oh my God ! |
How good!
|
She attracts the sun
|
And the looks of greedy guys
|
And the month of May laughs excitedly
|
And the days are getting longer
|
Chorus.
|
And let him not drive into battle today
|
And let it fall asleep today
|
And Pupo does not sing "about Monya"
|
And I, less and less often, "Polygon"
|
And let the "Green Cape" destroyed
|
And washed away like last year's snow,
|
But we will find a square on land
|
Where Oleg will surprise us.
|
I improved life as best I could
|
Changing both shoes and clothes
|
And the house is almost completed
|
There are windows and a fence
|
But, unfortunately, you can't shoot
|
Traces of past years from the face
|
And you won't raise from the grave
|
Already neither grandfather nor father
|
I wrote a cheerful song
|
I don't know - did it work?
|
But from a set of nonsense
|
The wheels took me out
|
And rolled along the asphalt
|
Faster than Zeus's horses
|
Between spring ringing weddings
|
Where the days are getting longer |