Текст песни Крошка Енот - Я не бывал в Париже

Slow down, you hear!
I have not been to Paris
I homeland of all close
And may I am a little offended
The fact that there are no roads, the people living miserable
They do not believe anyone, but continue to believe in God
Where is my way?
I do not know
But I understand that there is my home
Though notice that life is easier over the hill
In the trunk of desire more than one cartridge
Clip!
Flows measured life there, slowly, quietly
At home, what? Zapoyniki, dead, septic tanks
Pokornenko so from Wednesday to Tuesday
Life turns a person into an alcoholic

Hey Call Shred! As there is no home?
We booze before half past one. Second is not enough to sober me
Anatoly out! You ohuel?

So we live as in the ocean of falsehood
Of course you want to go to hell sebat
As soon as possible.
In Altai or Kamchatka
Sell ​​here hut,
Build a personal paradise
Save your soul in poetry, writing them will be there
On the shore of the great river, when the morning mist
Once in hand, the glass, but the milk of the cow
The neighbor is fishing. Alex, great!
And nature! Mother Of God!
I will be pleased with this mug
The family next door and did not need more
Do you hear?
And I do not need anything more!