Текст песни Михаил Башаков - Игра

The bliss of pirouettes
We, simple poets,
Here's the bait - a firefly
We hook the feeling.

I seem to be going into barrenness,
As the common people say:
The chicken is not a bird at all
If she doesn't dream of the sky.

When I fly, everyone admires the flight.
When I fly, I am a military plane.
And here I am knocked down.
I am a real plane.

And when the second in the face -
There will be an "egg" meeting.
A flower ripens in the porthole
The end of the playing of tired strings.

Orange water sip
Carried in the palms of the boy Hun.
When I walk, I walk many miles.
When I walk, I am already a car.

And the hot path splashes
Irresistible white YAN,
Will not let me fall asleep until morning
The game of shaggy monkeys.

And into the gray pool of stupid eyes
The passion of my love is leaving.
I will shout: "This is not Ecstasy!"
You will quietly say: "Ce la vie"

When I float out I go full swing
When I come out, I am a mail steamer.