Дима ПтицаМи - Жук Жужук - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Once in the body of Jose Santos Chokano there lived a beetle. It’s not that the beetle tried to be, you know, a secular fashionista, but he had a cane with a T-shaped handle, a felt hat, flannel trousers and lacy shoes. This was quite enough to feel confident, and if you add also a mustachioed smile of an experienced Donjuan, then the beetle could easily pick up some kind of beetle. The beetle was very fond of walking on a large and small gastric curvature, wandering along the hypochondrium squares and intestinal sidewalks. He carefully examined the duodenums and when some of them crashed on the hepatic hills, something echoed in his small fragile heart. In the evenings, the beetle often went into the bar on the pancreas, where the worm poured him a pint of delicious juice. Often they discussed the books read, exchanged news and missed a glass-second. Before leaving, the beetle usually chose Thomas Newmen's song in an old music machine and, finishing the remnants, sang quietly: “Samve ovabu wesbou Wei Ap Khai”. Once in the Friday issue of a local newspaper they wrote that a knife appeared in the body. The beetle put on a clean shirt, slowly stroked his trousers, combed his mustache and in a damn good mood went to get acquainted with him.