Текст песни Игорь Ждамиров - Военный билет

I'll buy you a ticket, son, I'm sorry
And Uncle Zhora not ask for you.
You know yourself, my son, how I have served and where,
And what a splinter still a burden.
And the mother sleep at night so I do not give a year,
The closer the army more bitter than her crying.
Yelling through tears that I do not love you,
And I'm old commie and executioner.

Chorus:
Three hundred and replaced kings
Regulations and decisions
Full of powerful people
And sins and prigresheniya.
Only we can not son
Without the protection of ground throw.
It's home to your
If chickened out - the conscience asks.

I'll buy you a ticket, son, I'm sorry,
And Jora himself after Alyoshko grayer
Yes, a real man to be easy,
But you will become them, the main thing that wanted to b.
Ticket military we do not buy,
I am proud, son, you do not ask about,
And I believe I brought you correctly
Russia will not sell, do not throw friends.

Chorus.

I'll buy you a ticket, son, I'm sorry ...