Текст песни записки карандашом - Подмосковье

I'll be shot tomorrow tomorrow with phone calls
I crawl on the threshold, and could not hear your smell
He was not interrupted by the flavor of the trash dumps.
I'm still drunk on my suddenly
I'll wash and lie down, tomorrow rise
Watch football - since I was a child from ispanyol
Spanish roar toreadors glue on cows
The urgency of their wives makes them blameless.
And I have more peace than the suburbs
Where are you, my Praskovya?
And I'll buy myself a knife, I need to know how much it costs.
@
No, I was not going to go to cook
Cooking salt on the wound will cause blood
Will call outfit cops neighbor Vera Ivanna
I fell asleep with a cute girl in Nekrasovka in the bath
I probably do not paint it, okay
-Blat hut Zhukovsky, slippery floor
Poul Scholes scores at the city gate beautifully
Listens to post-rock, sad Alan Shearer
He is over forty, his soul is so lousy
Guys somebody for swill send
And I calmly play Mortal Kombat for Shiva
While my friend leads the skin behind the screen
In a hurry like a kaveenshik laugh a woman
Chorus:
Where is your Bream? -can be in Reutov
Where are your mushrooms? -can be in Lyubertsy
I will review all the films of Kusturica than go out for a walk on your street at night
Where are your berries? -can in Odintsovo
Where are all your flowers? -Can in Ramenskoye
Crying at night again and again
Marusya from Balashikha because she doesn't like you

And our love story as Saturn near Moscow