(Roads)
I am at a stop, in my ears backing
I am waiting for my bus by number troika
And the conductor will ask: "How are you on your personal?"
Having said back in response, he just paid in cash
Makan is bitter in the ears, yes, it hurts me, moms
Love love - it haunts me
Because of her, I am paranoid plus often
Sometimes I live and think everything is idle
I am at a stop, in my ears backing
I am waiting for my bus by number troika
And the conductor will ask: "How are you on your personal?"
Having said back in response, he just paid in cash
Makan is bitter in the ears, yes, it hurts me, moms
Love love - it haunts me
Because of her, I am paranoid plus often
Sometimes I live and think everything is idle
I want a odnushka in Moscow City City
What dad understood, your son has achieved everything
I'm tired of poppy, let's be sincere
My father forbids me to even just fall in love with me
I feel different with you
Perhaps this whole story will end sadly
While you wash your liver on clubs
I wash myself and wait again with the meeting
I'm so afraid to break your heart once to you once
I hope the cupid corrected his sight, it is well -aimed
I will write you poems in my notes
And I am also afraid that you will break my heart
Let's leave all this phobia behind
You know, for me you are more than air, you are my doping
And it breaks me without you
I am at a stop, in my ears backing
I am waiting for my bus by number troika
And the conductor will ask: "How are you on your personal?"
Having said back in response, he just paid in cash
Makan is bitter in the ears, yes, it hurts me, moms
Love love - it haunts me
Because of her, I am paranoid plus often
Sometimes I live and think everything is idle
I depreciate all problems
After all, in my luggage there are trabels and also tremor
And I pour my soul into this channel
I lose faith in love, I'm without sensual
