Текст песни Владимир Ланцберг - Старая история

What is this - a trap?
Well, maybe for the game -
Trap, brother, the gut is thin:
They are bitches, cunning!
Here, do you hear? No, this is not the surf
Oh, to lose my mind!
Their stomp, their drumming
And this name is Plague!

Come on, brother, without beautiful words:
Your labors are in vain!
What are you, a bitch cat, Pied Piper
Without hearing and without a pipe?
Without treachery and without a knife -
Who are you without them in reality?
And money - I'm not sorry for money:
They are not there, so I live!

Ah, not a trap, you say? Device -
Watch the stars fly?
And before you heard the surf
And the stars of these same - cart! ..
But money - the world was bought by rats,
You are right, and they are right ...
Yes, children! .. You know, take the children:
They have nothing here, believe me!