Текст песни Гости из будущего - Метко метко метко судьба стреляет редко

I like Yuri Gagarin
In your microcosm
All that was to know, and I know that after
About you are not dreaming without you suffering
Smiling gently open your door
I assure yourself -you create a blank
You're not mine and I love other
But all the same something
My wins
Your hands in reverse
I am convinced

Aptly, aptly aptly fate shooting
Rarely, rarely, rarely misses
Branch, the branch, the branch has been resilient
Baby, baby I'm not your friend

I like Fedor Mihalitch with his idiot
I'll unravel the first three notes
My diagnosis is sad, sick do not try
As melting snow maiden, touching to you
Thoughts morengo color, indigo sky
Our children's happiness is still wildly
Poluslasche syrup, vanilla color too
Your lips again, not to have pleased