Lyrics И. Силиверстов - Санта Лючия

In each district hooligans can not be counted,
In every yard there are hooligans.
They do not know the words except the mat,
They send three cops.
They beat punks, they beat hipes,
But I always offer a glass,
Because they know, I, I'm a musician.

Chorus:
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia,
Santa Lucia, Santa,
Do that people do not offend
Poor musician.
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia,
He's a good guy,
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia,
Be a native for him.

Stand back!

In our entrance on the wall my portrait -
Cool guy draws a neighbor,
But do they cut me alive on TV?
When I try to sing my songs to them.
There you need sugar, everything is there,
A treshku will be thrust into my pocket by a hooligan,
Because he knows, I, I'm a musician.

Chorus.

Stand back!
Oh, oh, otboy!
Oooh-oh-oh-o-bo!
Oh, oh, otboy!
Oh, oh-oh-ooh!

I'll go out, oh, I'll go out on the street at six,
Knowing that there is a company there,
I'll sing her a rock about such love,
That immediately stiffens all the movement in the blood.
That will make it sad that the nightingales are silent,
That's how hooligans will be cured of wounds,
Because they know, I'm a musician.

Chorus.

Stand back!
Oh, oh, otboy!
Oh, oh, otboy!
Oh, oh, otboy!
Stand back!