Текст песни Игорь Тальков - Друзья - Товарищи

I was told that all of my poems
From perfection infinitely far.
I was told that my vocal gift
It acts on the head as sunstroke.

Oh, those my friends and comrades,
All, all, all, all who know
With stones in the bosom
And with figs behind
And on one of gyrus.

Let them talk to you "well-wishers"
With all your aspirations - not desirable.
You do not listen to them, calm and good cheer
And all the "well-wishers" Send the away!

Oh, those my "well-wishers"
Diviners, sovetodateli,
With stones in the bosom
And with figs behind
And on one of gyrus.

I was told that all of my poems
From perfection infinitely far.
I was told that I did not write it,
And I'm - I sing, we dance and play.

I was told that I was not breathing,
And I'm - I sing, we dance and play.
I was told that I did not write it,
And I sing, write, breathe, play and we dance.
Like this!