Текст песни Poll Mack - там, под окнами.

there, under the windows,
It can be a very long walk.
smoking, getting drunk
and even to read poetry.
if you ask me:
"What are you here lost?"
I would have said: "myself."
then, under the heart,
You can leave the blade.
here, on the throat,
b looked nice hickey.
throwing words
on the heads of these ladies
and try to be honest,
bestolku.
in the winter, with those lips, you can drink blood
enough.
you can go on foot city
but to understand the meaning of words:
"In my life you showed up at the wrong time."
for me, this is new.
You can love poetry.
You can learn poems by heart
and go to recitals,
and it is possible, as I
grind capita beef
and to mold his speech.
It is for you.

I play cruelty, rudeness and boorishness.
although he did not so I am,
because things from the house,
under whose windows
I was able to walk for a long time,
smoking, getting drunk, and even to read poetry.

nothing
not
left.