Текст песни Это тебе - Артем Лысков - в проекте Это Тебе

Fifteen years I will soon blow;
whether joyful days of rain?
As he will move ahead of me!
But now no one will throw
With contempt look at me.

Oh, I'm not a boy - it's above the lip
Can I zaschipnut his mustache;
I'm important as a toothless old man;
You hear my voice rough,
Try someone to push me.

I like me ladies, for modest,
And there is one among them ...
And the proud gaze of its so Thomen,
And the color of her cheeks so is dark,
What is life to me is a mile.