Текст песни Шухрат Хусаинов - Бессонница

The key is her own,
Her earrings are made of tin.
Scripnet quietly hanger,
He will say: again a blizzard.
Will remove the movement of Gracia
Blouse over the head,
Will wash off his makeup,
Quietly slips into bed.

Hello, my insomnia,
My faithful woman,
How can you not be ashamed
Is it the right thing to be? ..
Pulling birds to the north -
They are promised a warm welcome there,
And I would go to the past
Or forget about it ...

Eck, throwing her arms out,
You might think that not on a visit,
And in the pre-dawn twilight
Dreams of her winter forest.
How could she, a bitch, like her
Remember all sorts of nastiness,
With a vodka I pump up
And disperse brides.

My woe is insomnia,
My foolish woman,
I'm about all that lived,
Close to you forgot.
It is a pity that, among other things,
Happiness is not promised to us
And if not for loneliness,
I would have killed you!

Someone died for the Motherland,
The liner cleared into the distance,
The Nobel Prize
Someone did not get it,
Someone went into politics,
I did the following:
With a fictitious woman
I spent my whole life ...

Hello, my insomnia,
My faithful woman,
Well, how can you not be ashamed
Is it correct to be like that ?!