The Junior letter to Carlson II
We eat jam, we don't buzz,
We hide on the roof.
The regime is overwhelmed
Burning tires.
You are now a welcome guest
On any scale.
The old bloodthirsty GOST
He died early in the morning.
Dud's interlocutors
Everyone returned home
And they will set fire to us
In the middle of Bolotnye streets.
We switched from squeaking to bass
Our opponents.
And Chubais ruffled his forelock
In the south of the planet.
The dacha was set on fire in Sochi,
The yacht was sunk.
And Sobchak yapped,
Devouring white dust.
Gunya is an artist:
Hiding in the mosque!
We cannot escape from Hell:
Devils sharpen their claws!
Will not save the widow Clicquot,
A toast to the taken BAhmyt!
We have shit in tights:
OURS smell bad!
Turn away, your thing,
To change his clothes!
Soon they will come to judge us
Kiev and Odessa..
Don't come to us again!
World Stage:
Like the Moskow urban area, that China -
jam is shit!
You'll kill anyone:
Get out of here!
See: Thy Junior One is sick!
Clearly not a cold!
Even if they notice,
I'll chew the belts!
So don't buzz me here:
AZ — Schizophrenia!
We will bake Easter cakes
From shit and pus!
Do not treat us in vain:
It's paranoia!
Turn away, your thing,
To change his clothes!
Soon they will come to judge us
Kiev and Odessa..