Текст песни Домовой, Есаул, Танкист - КСП

It is time for the journey, old, backpack propyl,
Food eaten at dinner, old man.
Three broken bronchitis, sciatica three,
With the latest string guitar foiled
  When we leave, here comes Grandma,
  Counting bottles and surrender will experience stress,
  When counting all the money suddenly understand -
  She can afford the six hundredth Mercedes.
Listen, man, you do not take your backpack!
The tent is also not yours and not your kan!
The wife of someone else put back, eccentric,
Not that I do not know what I'll do to you!
  Oh, and that that night, kissing her,
  Now you are again indifferent to her mother.
  She just Bosko shibanul yesterday mulled wine,
  And it confused you with me.
Listen, man, you so to land and oppression.
Tents, sleeping bags, two channels and a mattress.
And I used to be, too, so went to the rally,
But this was only the first couple of times.
  Life has taught me mind to mind,
  Now I pick up the guitar, vodka, onions ...
  All the rest goes to the point I
  Here at people like you, the green recruits.