Текст песни Александр Башлачев - Новый Год

New Year

Em Am Em.
We are at the gate. Hey, revoke, guard!
Am em.
Exactly in twelve we allow the entrance.
Am em.
Wet from foam, and definitely drunk
Am H.
I am amazing in the new coming year.

Em Am Em.
Cracker breaking the Christmas toys
Am em.
Humbles to the table Society-Assorted.
Am em.
I want to become a clappering explosive
Am H.
And shoot all of you with volley confetti.

Em.
But you need to turn on,
AM.
And - only two or three! - have fun.
H.
And it's best to get drunk
Em H.
To collapse under the table with a layer.
Em am.
Some of the women in the mask of Lisens
H Em.
Welly waves to me with his fluffy tail.

There, at the top, the counter knocks more and more.
There, at the top, soon make an account.
Someone chose a postcard in the mailbox.
Maybe an angel, maybe - drunk traits?

This year I need damn shaggy.
I will fuck him with my left hand.
I declare eighty fifth
The year of serious measures to combat longing.

But the room is empty,
Lubricated paints.
Mighty snoring over the wall is heard.
Someone out of women dumps the mask
And stays next to me.

How well, when there is nowhere to hurry.
Slept to sleep the first January day.
It would be necessary to get up to dreamed,
It would be necessary to get up but climb too lazy.

The city was hiding in a white shaggy fur coat.
Long snowfall is declared in the world.
Laziness dress up, shave and paint lips.
But still open, pour muscat.

And we fall asleep.
What do we dream?
Forest and road, horse crow.
Some of the women in the mask of Lisens
In the morning wakes up next to me.

Someone from women quickly with bed will rise,
Climb the dress and suit the table.
Someone from women will place everything in places.
Somewhere in the corner in the kitchen will find a broom.

Someone from women quickly meets fragments.
Remove the cups with soap and boiling water.
Rewitting toys. Throws our Christmas trees.
And, not passing goodbye, clicks the door lock.

And the sun is all higher! Soon melts.
Sady frost will pay the calculation.
Sitting on the roof, swallows mournfully
Vodka and tears is my small feature.