When they demote me, they will declare me absurd
and sweep the door with an iron broom,
when not only mentally, but by all direct flesh,
I will comprehend with all my skin
then for comfort I won’t go to the happy
I'll go to honest.
Happy is fiction, it is only temporary
not a century to his relish a separate menu.
Today he is blissful, and tomorrow the revolution
will deprive him of everything that he acquired with a hump.
Goodbye, with a portion and spice
and with truffle mushroom.
Not all luck is a fan, it happens that the profile,
flaunt a well done young man in stripes.
Today he commands, and tomorrow intervention
press it to the ground with a seal with the coat of arms.
And then the Inquisition, so she also with a whip,
and hammer sickle.
I do not need to be happy with his dangerous gold
as friends, I’ll go to honest.
When they demote me and drive me out everywhere
on black rentals with a whistle-breeze,
I will not go to the happy, he is the one over whom the spell
and bell for whom.
And with honest what you do, he lives under an apple tree for a century
and he eats the carrion in the evening and in the afternoon.
When in all positions I remain without a bonus,
no matter what, I’ll go to honest.
When, having reached a degree, the water will return to the cloud,
and gold is in ore.
The credit tradition will not be affectionate for long,
take, they say, do not be timid, we will count, tea, yours.
When in all positions I collapse below the minus,
I’ll go to honest, at least personally I’m not familiar.
Going on a hunch without an address, without a compass,
pebbles on foot
And the pebbles hesitate, the century ends
half the sky obscured the advertising airship.
The stars shine reluctantly, the open spaces smell of the north,
winter from around the corner, like in a circus, hello Bom.
And the account in the mailbox, such an amount in words,
that hair stands on end.
