Lyrics птички в глитче - волжанка
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference птички в глитче - волжанка, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
плывя в волжанке, изучаю культуру курения,
под группы lopatka песнопения.
смотря в бинокль, узнаю о состоянии птиц,
которые в скором времени рухнут вниз.
ножевая драка в телефонной будке,
я обещаю, что такого никогда не будет,
пока факел в руке освещает мне свет,
будто бы это маяк в ночной темноте.
мой дорогой дневник, моя оценка -1
под заунывные песни kroona грустно сидим.
мы улыбаемся ветру, под pepi rossler,
ведь это наша последняя осень.
палисад закрывает двери в светлое завтра,
под песни eilean mor мы все столбы сломаем.
кушайте корицу, слушая oh, deer!
и всей юности итог сохраняйте в мелодиях.
зачем ваши earpods, ведь есть амфитон на ушах,
ламповый звук ещё никому не помешал.
а я помешан на музыке, не знаю, что
сделать мне, чтобы весь этот азарт ушёл.
столько раз пытался наконец бросить писать,
но возвращался снова в писательскую грязь.
я не боясь, говорю современным певцам,
что они говно, чтобы их корни не разрастались.
а я оставлю после себя плохой след,
чтобы мои внуки не смогли гордиться своим дедом.
о своих бедах расскажу в следующей сотне песен
однообразных и пресных.
шутка. ведь надо петь о чём-то высоком,
о чём не пели сперанский с алёхиным.
а я в снова омуте всей мировой музыки,
снова пишу. для кого-то эта новость грустная.
Swim in Volzhanka, study the culture of smoking,
Under the groups of Lopatka chasing.
looking into binoculars, I find out about the state of birds,
Which soon collapsed down.
knife fight in the telephone booth
I promise that this will never be,
While the torch in the hand illuminates the light to me,
As if it is a lighthouse in the night darkness.
My dear diary, my score -1
Under the coming songs of Kroona sadly sit.
We smile by the wind, under Pepi Rossler,
After all, this is our last autumn.
Palisade closes the doors to the bright tomorrow,
Under the songs Eilean Mor, we all broke the chambers.
Wear a cinnamon, listening to Oh, Deer!
And keep the result of the result in melodies.
Why do your Earpods, because there is amphiton on the ears,
The lamp sound did not prevent anyone.
and I'm preserved on the music, I do not know what
Make me so that all this excitement is gone.
so many times tried to finally throw writing
But he returned again to writing dirt.
I'm not afraid, I say to modern singers,
that they are shit to make their roots.
And I will leave after myself a bad mark,
So that my grandchildren could not be proud of their grandfather.
about your troubles will tell in the next hundred songs
Monotonous and fresh.
joke. After all, you need to sing about something high
What did not sang Speransky with Alekhin.
And I'm in the waters of all world music again,
I write again. For someone, this news is sad.
Under the groups of Lopatka chasing.
looking into binoculars, I find out about the state of birds,
Which soon collapsed down.
knife fight in the telephone booth
I promise that this will never be,
While the torch in the hand illuminates the light to me,
As if it is a lighthouse in the night darkness.
My dear diary, my score -1
Under the coming songs of Kroona sadly sit.
We smile by the wind, under Pepi Rossler,
After all, this is our last autumn.
Palisade closes the doors to the bright tomorrow,
Under the songs Eilean Mor, we all broke the chambers.
Wear a cinnamon, listening to Oh, Deer!
And keep the result of the result in melodies.
Why do your Earpods, because there is amphiton on the ears,
The lamp sound did not prevent anyone.
and I'm preserved on the music, I do not know what
Make me so that all this excitement is gone.
so many times tried to finally throw writing
But he returned again to writing dirt.
I'm not afraid, I say to modern singers,
that they are shit to make their roots.
And I will leave after myself a bad mark,
So that my grandchildren could not be proud of their grandfather.
about your troubles will tell in the next hundred songs
Monotonous and fresh.
joke. After all, you need to sing about something high
What did not sang Speransky with Alekhin.
And I'm in the waters of all world music again,
I write again. For someone, this news is sad.