Привет, ромашки. Кидайте деньги. Читайте книжки. Дурной мальчишка Ушёл. Такая фишка. Нелепый мальчишка. А я девочка с плеером, С веером вечером не ходи
Угроза ядерной войны Меня нисколько не ебёт. Ведь в этом нет моей вины. Все мысли только о тебе Я думал скоро всё пройдёт Но ты приходишь в мои сны.
Солнце белое, небо синее Всё зелёное, всё красивое. Всюду жёлтые одуванчики И похожи на попугайчиков. Я в тебя влюбился практически, Ну а ты больна венерически
Я кактус не поливаю, Лежу и охуеваю. Я не кормлю попугая, Всё больше охуевая. Всё хорошо, всё в порядке, Одни пятёрки в тетрадке. Повсюду голые девки
На восьмое марта я тебе подарю Не букетик и не утюг. Ни стихов ни песен не сочиню Я не Киркоров, не Юрий Антонов И даже не Коля Гнатюк. Я подарю тебе
Wait, I watched you throw out your bouquet Now I think about you everyday I'm alone now in my bed And there's a lake, and at the bottom you'll find all
Last night they said the fire had spread And we said our prayers And now the flames are burning me in my bed But I just don't care We all go to sleep
Take heart, my little friend and push back your seat Soon we'll be far away, far from the street Where you learned how to be, not what you are Up on
The cut rate mime walkin' through the dirty streets Of Paris in the hot, August heat Sun meltin' the fake smile away Just lookin' for a place to stay
Today is a lovely day to run Start up the car with the sun Packin' blankets and dirty sheets A roomful of dust and a broom to sweep up All the troubles
If I lay my head down I will see you in my dream Wearing that polka dot dress and sitting by the stream Leaning in to hear you, you will whisper in my
I can't look at the rocket launch The trophy wives of the astronauts And I won't listen to their words 'Cause I like birds I don't care for walking downtown
Taking a walk down to the mall Smelling piss and beer and gas That could be me in a couple years Suckin' fumes under the highway pass On a rainy day,
I bought some rock star ashes From the back of rolling stone I guess he wouldn't mind it They couldn't sell his soul The tiger in my tank Is going to
Sun comes up on the old neighborhood Spray-painted bricks and dead firewood Well I don't know where I'm gonna be next I don't care where I am gonna be
Little field mice living under the house Never eating much, tough life for a mouse And if you think you're gonna be spared You're wrong Field mice, head
Went down by the old courthouse Stumbling through the streets Had to get out of the house Had to use my feet And you may not think much of me now But
