Oh, those people are filthy pigs,
What napletli about my girlfriend,
Some nonsense about her addictions,
Well, just pity and fear.
So it happens that a man jealous
When he lacks self-love,
Breeds rumors, do not hurt me no evil alien
The way I see it ...

On his head is a wreath of flowers,
In his hand a green badylek,
And before rushing her lamb, | x2
A butterfly on her years | x2

Do harm to my little lady,
They want to spit it despicable perverts.
They want it to drown in a sea of ​​envy,
Paranoids, despicable sadists,
Dirty in the dirty debauchery,
A fake smile gębach,
Any tire out to his swamp, but wara you!
I know it better, after all ...

On his head is a wreath of flowers,
In his hand a green badylek,
And before rushing her lamb, | x2
A butterfly on her years | x2

Again, they saw it from a peasant,
Again she went to Saint Tropez,
Again, had suffered, God's ways,
Back to boats washed the floor.
Only his hands are so white?
I wanted to ask - I forgot
Kłoniąc body, beckoned with his hand, supported the temple by temple
Again, I fell into it like the tone ...

Ah, the old beautiful girl,
Kosi money, no Jaguar,
It is difficult to work with love agree,
Rarely can come to me,
Just ask hiding the blush,
Why do I look like a condemned man?
Why grind when you ask - if you want a nice bust?
Why roll foaming at the mouth? ...

On his head is a wreath of flowers,
In his hand a green badylek,
And before rushing her lamb, | x2
A butterfly on her years | x2