Текст песни Игорь Пискарев - Его достали

He got life and bustle,
Both women got capricious ,
Mental anguish solid vanity ,
And scows full of mullet ...

And he tore the hair on the head,
And locks fell at his feet in grief .
Elegant mat drifted across the grass ,
And the birds were silent watchfulness .

It was spring . Normal winter day .
In the rays of the moon crow chirping ,
And the habit of chasing away the shadows,
Grumbled the fence : " We got fucking got ."