Текст песни Бахыт Компот - Восьмое марта

On the eighth of March, I will not drink,
On the eighth of March, I want to be sober,
On the eighth of March, I will be the same:
Himself a servant, his own master.

I'm not going to jump on the benches in front of you,
Grimace and grimace as queer blue,
Champagne corks at the ceiling to shoot,
Rose and mimosa set of vases.

Chorus: The eighth of March - wacky holiday,
He came up with a very angry monkey.
Drunk girls kill him,
Nothing good in this day happen.

Blizzard zaporoshit city - swallow,
All the people in the shops in the evening run.
Boys and girls get drunk, too,
Graters begin: & quot; who gets to rub more expensive? & Quot;

From booze girls have posryvaet roof:
How you will groan in the bathroom, I do not hear,
By rumpled blouse skolznu I do not look,
I do not see the torn tights and lipstick smeared.

Chorus: The eighth of March - wacky holiday,
He came up with a very angry monkey.
Drunk girls kill him,
Nothing good in this day happen.