Текст песни шалава - курит не меньше чем винстон

smokes no less than Winston
drinks no less than holsten
late comes to visit
does not ask unnecessary questions
asks nothing
she doesn't need to promise stars from the sky
in principle it is difficult to offend her
but also in her offense for more than 5 minutes
nobody was happy to see
will smoke and again she doesn't know
what is silence
I could not understand what she can dream of
so the cat prefers to walk on its own
with cats of all stripes, any even unfamiliar
lifting your fluffy tail as high as possible
good mistress but bad friend
monogamy for her is synonymous with boredom
and does not shy away from casual connections
for her hobbies everything that is called dirty

I'm sorry, you're right there
You are not one of those whose name is married
And something else confuses me in this matter
I am one of those who knows a thing or two about you
On hot, tired springs of truth
We will never meet a new tomorrow
with such aimless, insatiable you
But the night is dark and the handwriting will hide lust

Flame snapping, caress, face painting
I'm so tired of it in an endless romance
There can be no last leaf
The only way to break
Avoiding questions
on the one hand you, on the other me
another who does not want to be with you
talk to you, lock myself in the wires
news, latest forecasts
the sound of footsteps, your laughter, the timbre of your voice
is classified by me as a direct threat
my freedom
and so quietly the days are melting and the snow is falling
merciless calendars
give yourself to others, give me malt
my restful sleep half a meter from the floor
where is radiolla my lady
and sunny beach
in the morning I close the doors behind you
by two turns with a key
I'll push the second with my shoulder
goodbye, innocent of nothing

I'm sorry, you're right there
You are not one of those whose name is married
And something else confuses me in this matter
I am one of those who knows a thing or two about you
On hot, tired springs of truth
We will never meet a new tomorrow
with such aimless, insatiable you
But the night is dark and the handwriting will hide lust