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Lads write a letter to me

When I first did time I could not bear it, -
I get an extra year, maybe - four ...
Lads, write a letter to me:
What happens there in your free world?
 
What do you drink there? We drink almost nothing.
Here is only snow in sunny weather ...
Lads, write about everything,
But here is nothing going on!
 
I am missig you very much -
I want to see your dear mugs!
How is Nadyusha, with whom is she now?
Alone? - then she also shall write.
 
More terrifying, is maybe, - only the Day of Judgement!
A letter will help me to remain alive, -
I will maybe not given to me,
But all the same, lads, write! ..
 

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Safari

Sunt sigură că te-am văzut în visele mele,
Simt că nu e prima dată când ne întâlnim,
Faci timpul să zboare încet, încet...
Precum curg râurile lente,
Încet...
Văd focul în ai tăi,
În ai tăi ochi...
Mă face să mă simt,
Mă duce în înălțimi,
Așă că adu-l pe ringul de dans.
Iubite, mai bine ai începe cumn trebuie,
Mă pierd,
Nu pot
Controla asta...
Trebuie să fie iubire...
Iubire!
 
(refren)
Haide, băiete,
Mișcă-ți trupul,
Pentru că în noaptea asta
Sunt neastâmpărată, neastâmpărată,
Dansează cu mine de parcă ar fi petrecerea mea,
Ne dezlănțuim,
Suntem în safari...
 
Mai bine ți-ai aținti ochii asupra mea,
Știu că nu ești
Singurul care mă privește
Când toate stelele nopții strălucesc,
Strălucesc!
Dansăm printre ele încet,
Încet...
Văd focul în ai tăi,
În ai tăi ochi...
Mă face să mă simt,
Mă duce în înălțimi,
Așă că adu-l pe ringul de dans.
Iubite, mai bine ai începe cumn trebuie,
Mă pierd,
Nu pot
Controla asta...
Trebuie să fie iubire...
Iubire!
 
(refren)
Haide, băiete,
Mișcă-ți trupul,
Pentru că în noaptea asta
Sunt neastâmpărată, neastâmpărată,
Dansează cu mine de parcă ar fi petrecerea mea,
Ne dezlănțuim,
Suntem în safari... (x 2)
 

Poor Rich Girl

Who is going to give her a little bit of happiness?
Who is going to drink her tears?
Who will be?
Where does the cold that fills her soul come from?
And the guardian angel?
Where is he?
 
Poor rich girl
She feels more lonely than a shipwrecked at sea
Poor rich girl
In her golden cage life is so bitter
She is seen crying
 
For the joy she can't buy
Total sadness
There is no doctor that can cure this illness
Where does the cold that fills her soul come from?
Who has stolen her desire to dream?
 

Thinking of fucking

The thieves are back!
The thieves are back!!
The Party Band with El Bananero, man!
 
Everybody is thinking of fucking
And who doesn't fuck will fuck himself
Everybody is thinking of fucking
And who doesn't fuck will fuck himself
 
Let's all take off the mask
Show the cock, show the tits
Don't think they made you talking
You mom and your dad made you fucking
Have sex motherfuckers!
 
To shower twice, to pur perfume
To shave the crotch, to change the tampon
To pay dinner and dessert, to go to the movies
We live forming and thinking of fucking
How it goes?
 
You bore smelly feet and pussies
Heary armpits and asses too
Smells of fart, and cheese
You bore all that thinking of fucking
You know!
 
You came to the club
Thinking of fucking
You paid a drink
Thinking of fucking
You showed cleavage
Thinking of fucking
You got drunk
Thinking of fucking
You became musician
Thinking of fucking
You get pretty
Thinking of fucking
I have a wank
Thinking of fucking
We did this song
 
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Ode to the Peace

For the
truth, for the laughter, for the light, for the beauty,
For the birds that flutter in the gaze of a child,
For the cleanliness of the wind, for the acts of purity,
For the joy, for the wine, for the music, for the dance,
for the mild melody of the whisper of the rivulets,
For the glint of the summer, for the blueness of the clear day,
For the flowers that enamel the fields, for the quietude, for the pastures,
For the exactitude of the roses, for the Wisdom,
For the pearls that trickle from the eyes of the lovers,
For the wonders that are truthful in the dreams,
For the love, for the freedom, for the radiant things,
For the ripe aromas of soft autumns,
For the future morning of the great transparent ones,
For the maternal and fecund entrails of the earth,
For the tears of the mothers to whom bloody clouds
Snatch away the sons for the turpitude of war,
I conjure you oh peace, I invoke you oh benign one,
Oh Holy One, oh talisman against the ferocious industry,
With your hands that slaughter the flags of ire,
With your hide-and-seek of the bomb and of the tormentor,
Open the doors of the History,
let
Life pass!