Текст песни Радио Чача - 2030

In two thousand and thirty
I will be sixty two.
It will become a completely gray head.
But I will not retire.
I’ll pour sand onto the stage,
And groaning gasp into the microphone,
What, they say, is real punk rock alive,
And pop must die.
And the hall will sing ...

Twenty years
Back you were really cool.
But there is no drive and separation -
They are waiting for you at the almshouse.

Far eighty second
I was fourteen years old.
Thirty years seemed to be dumb.
It seemed forty - you're already a grandfather.
But this is all a bit wrong.
Another thing is sixty-two.
When the head becomes gray
When already without a cane
And with a rumor strained.

Twenty years
Back I was really cool.
But today
And do nothing here.
Twenty years
Back I was really cool!
But today
Let me take an example!

Twenty years
Back you were really cool.
But there’s no more drive and separation -
They are waiting for you at the almshouse.

Twenty years
Back I was really cool!
But there is no drive and separation -
They are waiting for me at the almshouse!