Текст песни птички в глитче - волжанка

swimming in a Volzhanka, I study the culture of smoking,
under the group lopatka chants.
looking through binoculars, I learn about the state of the birds,
which will soon collapse down.
a knife fight in a telephone booth,
I promise this will never happen
while the torch in my hand illuminates my light,
as if it were a lighthouse in the darkness of the night.
my dear diary, my grade is -1
we sit sadly to the mournful songs of kroona.
we smile to the wind, under pepi rossler,
because this is our last autumn.
the palisade closes the doors to a bright tomorrow,
to the songs of eilean mor we will break all the pillars.
eat cinnamon while listening to oh deer!
and keep the result of all your youth in melodies.

why your earpods, because there is an amphiton on the ears,
tube sound has not disturbed anyone yet.
and I'm obsessed with music, I don't know what
to make all this excitement go away.
so many times I finally tried to quit writing,
but returned again to the writer's filth.
I'm not afraid, I say to modern singers,
that they are shit so their roots don't grow.
and I'll leave a bad mark behind me
so that my grandchildren could not be proud of their grandfather.
I'll tell you about my troubles in the next hundred songs
monotonous and insipid.
joke. because you have to sing about something high,
about what they did not sing Speransky with Alyokhin.
and I am again in the pool of all world music,
writing again. for some, this news is sad.