Текст песни Марк Фрейдкин - Маленький поц

Little potsu schoolyard
eye knocked out, so as not to Zhuhai in the game.
Trifle away, schelbany gave in the forehead,
bag thrown into a snowbank.
And when he had something to lie,
Mom presenting his shiner,
she said, glancing at the puffy eyes:
"Things could be worse than a hundred times."

Ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay ...

Eleven years have passed, and the springtime
glued lady our young hero.
Only here in bed that night he
not left her anything.
And spare the boy,
She stroked his dick
and he whispered: "He's still a class show.
It could be a hundred times worse. "

Ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay ...

Many years later, by the autumn mud
He was walking home from the ultrasound room.
Wicked diagnosis - two nondescript leaf -
lying in the pocket of his jacket.
And having estimated in advance,
how many live and how to die,
he thought: "It does not matter, that God did not save -
it could be a hundred times worse. "

Ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay ...