The moon is a turnip, and stars are beans
Thank you, mother, for the bread and salt
Souls are roots, and bodies are sprouts
A fun time is coming, brothers!
Spring rain watered the grocery store
The musician Selivanov strangled himself with a scarf
No one knew it would be funny
No one knew it would be so funny
A little boy found a rifle
And it so happened, that he's not alive anymore
In the kitchen he put butter on some bread
Chewed and drank and aimed at his temple
And as he ate and drank from a glass
The poet Bashlachev fell from a window and died
Oi-oh, the trap activated
Yet another animal was handed over to us
The world has awakened from a heavy sleep
And then a big spring came
The bed moaned under the weight of the bodies
It's so fun-fuck everything!
I broke off the cap of my ballpoint pen
And on the road a dead peasant walked towards me
Breakfast, dinner and lunch
The peasant is dead, but we aren't yet!
The moon is a turnip, and stars are beans
Thank you, mother, for the bread and salt
A fun time is coming, friends
Oi-oh, it won't get more fun than this!
Oi-oh, it's way too fun!
Oi-oh, it won't get more fun than this!
Oi-oh, it's way too fun!