Текст песни Сердце дурака - Продали Россию

I'll write a sad song,
Yes, to the glory of the intelligentsia.
As an oral folk tradition,
Tighten her, a little evening is outlined.

And we have long evenings, as usual
Yes, sometimes the sun does not give a ray.
So pour the bitter cup to the brim
Eh, I went well under the cucumbers.

One-two-three, they sold Russia,
Unknown flag on the blue sky.
Wipe your nose, no need to sag
What is not treated with wine, cure poison.

We remember sacredly at night and day - bee,
We tear on body shirts
Every first hero, always one
Oh, we would be together like that - after all, we are not artel.

And in the Far East, the dawn is on,
Like a path to paradise.
And we’ll also have extreme huts burned down,
Only February frosts come.

One-two-three, they sold Russia,
Unknown flag on the blue sky.
Wipe your nose, no need to sag
What is not treated with wine, cure poison.

Though dancing on the bones, even though you are a wolf howling,
And the Earth is still spinning.
And again, as usual, every hero
Pulls vodka, only evening is outlined.

And we have long evenings, as usual
Yes, sometimes the sun does not give a ray.
So drink the bitter cup to the bottom
Eh, I went well under the cucumbers.

One, two, three, wait for the Messiah,
There will be a new flag in the blue sky.
Wipe your nose, no need to sag
What is not treated with wine, cure poison.

One-two-three, they sold Russia,
One, two, three, wait for the Messiah ...