Текст песни Хамов Александр - Пижон
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Ну, что глядишь тупым, надменным взглядом,
Холеный да ухоженный пижон?
Ты не ходил в атаку под свинцовым градом,
К родным погибших не стучался в дом.
Ты жил - не рвал и не служил Отчизне,
И нож душмана не трогал твой кадык,
Зато сегодня ты хозяин этой жизни,
И к этой мысли ты давно уже привык.
Припев:
Скажи, страна, ну чем ты заболела?
И порван парус, и вдребезги весло.
Как вылечить твое больное тело,
Коль крышу ветром напрочь унесло?
Сидишь в тепле и тянешь свой мартини,
В окопе на морозе спирт нужней.
Нас била жизнь, ты отсиделся в тине,
И на сегодня ты важней всех и главней.
Ты в эту жизнь вошел легко и с тыла,
Хоть по тебе давно тоскует Колыма,
А нам страна на память подарила
Боль свежих ран да боевые ордена.
Припев:
Скажи, страна, ну чем ты заболела?
И порван парус, и вдребезги весло.
Таких ублюдков на себе пригрела,
А тем, кто жизней не жалел, не повезло.
Ну что ж, свое похоже мы отвоевали,
И на сегодня мы похоже не нужны,
Чуть задержались мы на перевале,
А в бой ушли чуть помоложе пацаны.
Они шустрей, мы им прикроем спины,
Как мы когда-то, лезут на рожон,
А ты ныряй опять поглубже в тину,
Холеный да ухоженный пижон.
Припев:
Скажи, страна, ну чем ты заболела?
И порван парус, и вдребезги весло.
Раскрой глаза и погордись за смелых
На смерть идущих за тебя сынов.
Скажи, страна...
Well, that you look with a blunt, arrogant look,
Hole and well -groomed dignies?
You did not go on the attack under the lead hail,
To the relatives of the dead did not knock on the house.
You lived - did not tear and did not serve the Fatherland,
And the Dushman's knife did not touch your kadyk,
But today you are the master of this life,
And you have long been used to this thought.
Chorus:
Tell me, country, what did you get sick?
And the sail is torn, and to smash the oar.
How to cure your sick body,
Since the roof completely carried away the roof?
You sit warm and pull your martini,
In the frost trench, alcohol is needed.
We were beaten by life, you have served in Tina,
And today you are more important than everyone and more importantly.
You entered this life easily and from the rear,
Although Kolyma has long been yearning for you,
And the country gave us as a keepsake
Pain of fresh wounds and combat orders.
Chorus:
Tell me, country, what did you get sick?
And the sail is torn, and to smash the oar.
Such bastards warmed up on themselves,
And those who did not spare lives, are not lucky.
Well, we seem to have won our own
And for today we do not seem to be needed
We lingered a little on the pass,
And a little younger boys went into battle.
They are more nimble, we will cover them with their backs,
As we once, they climb into a wound,
And you dive more deeper into Tina,
Hole and well -groomed dad.
Chorus:
Tell me, country, what did you get sick?
And the sail is torn, and to smash the oar.
Open your eyes and burn for the brave
To the death of sons coming for you.
Tell me, the country ...
Hole and well -groomed dignies?
You did not go on the attack under the lead hail,
To the relatives of the dead did not knock on the house.
You lived - did not tear and did not serve the Fatherland,
And the Dushman's knife did not touch your kadyk,
But today you are the master of this life,
And you have long been used to this thought.
Chorus:
Tell me, country, what did you get sick?
And the sail is torn, and to smash the oar.
How to cure your sick body,
Since the roof completely carried away the roof?
You sit warm and pull your martini,
In the frost trench, alcohol is needed.
We were beaten by life, you have served in Tina,
And today you are more important than everyone and more importantly.
You entered this life easily and from the rear,
Although Kolyma has long been yearning for you,
And the country gave us as a keepsake
Pain of fresh wounds and combat orders.
Chorus:
Tell me, country, what did you get sick?
And the sail is torn, and to smash the oar.
Such bastards warmed up on themselves,
And those who did not spare lives, are not lucky.
Well, we seem to have won our own
And for today we do not seem to be needed
We lingered a little on the pass,
And a little younger boys went into battle.
They are more nimble, we will cover them with their backs,
As we once, they climb into a wound,
And you dive more deeper into Tina,
Hole and well -groomed dad.
Chorus:
Tell me, country, what did you get sick?
And the sail is torn, and to smash the oar.
Open your eyes and burn for the brave
To the death of sons coming for you.
Tell me, the country ...