Команданте че песня скляр текст

Обновлено: 19.09.2024

Хамиль:
В новой посылке были найдены жгуты, мази и бинты.
Живы будут наши рекруты
А для меня - то, что важней любого пластыря -
Чистая бумага и семь простых фломастеров
Я рисую каждый день свой родной дом
И бойцы грустят, смотрят с открытым ртом
Каждый цвет я экономлю как патрон,
А когда закончится в них спирт, залью в них ром
Нет ничего, кроме скуки в этой дыре, брат
нужно чем-то занять руки, я тут местный Рембрандт
В джунглях висят мои рисунки, куда ни шагни
Радуется наш отряд, злятся враги
А если кровь моя вдруг станет цветом восьмым
Может я не доживу до следующей зимы
Пускай наши палачи вспомнят потом
Дом там где свобода, свобода там где дом

То гром снарядов, то стук Каста нет
И только слабым, друг, тут места нет
«Viva la revolucion» — поёт гитара
Viva comandante Che Guevara

That thunder of shells , the sound of castanets
And only the weak one , there is no place
«Viva la revolucion» - singing guitar
Viva comandante Che Guevara

snakes:
Froze everything until dawn , the order will not climb
We are here as if it is not, but at the same time, we are
In this nest , we can sit stupidly all day
Blankly around , then there's everything gloomy everywhere
And at night we persecuted sadness warms only tea
While we listen to these silent jungle
We got desperate , ready to chop off the shoulder one
Stop! Who goes there ? Answer!
Hey, you what? Oh, it's his , to parcels

With spoons , forks , cups, plates , bottles
Gives us all the trash the nearest village .
Everything is useful to us , because we even sleep in the trees !
Today everyone wants freedom, truth . And I want
Therefore, on the tonsils and then stuck
From brides no news,
Instead, Ernesto Che
And he , at times, more severe than the Pinochet
I know why we're here spent many days and nights
For the moment to strike the enemy right in the skull
Che time soon, now calm before the storm
Rejoice parcels sit as mice, smoke

Hamil :
The new premise was found harnesses , ointments and bandages .
Alive are our recruits
And for me - is that more important than any of the patch -
Blank paper and seven simple markers
I paint every day our home
And the men are sad , watching with open mouth
Every color I save as a patron ,
And when will the alcohol in them , I will fill them in rum
There is nothing but boredom in that hole , brother
you need something to occupy your hands , I've been a local Rembrandt
In the jungle, hanging my drawings , wherever SHagni
Rejoices in our party , angry enemies
And if my blood suddenly becomes the eighth color
I can not live until next winter
Let our executioners then remember
Home is where freedom, freedom where house

That thunder of shells , then knock Caste no
And only the weak one , there is no place
«Viva la revolucion» - singing guitar
Viva comandante Che Guevara

Noggano :
Shards of meat , crushed bone
Kompaneras you throw me better here
Come on , get you to the hospital and after
We will call in with senoritochkami visit
Oh , the war yadry guns , nuclear cigarettes
Ernest , a hospital here , this train island
Calm down, your salvation for us the question of spirituality
And the fact that there is no hospital , so it is built
That is to say bitch in our
No matter where and where will ebashit , most importantly - ebashit
No matter where die , just not from old age
I say : there village , where cane forming ears
Four huts in the center of the old man by the fire .
We've got wounded , padre. Do you have bandages ?
No bandages , better let Podymov
I say, some smoke, Pops ? Poimena shame
See the heroic spirit in Muchacho cooled
You do not care amputation and crutches
And in the worst case we have used you and so do not have informed
So Basil, not Ramsey . Grasped ?
Meanwhile Granddaddy of weapons muzzle
Fashioned nehuystvenny bulbik
I thought: if the die , there is no bullet
Mr. Che , Ernest , Fidel Dunem ? grandpa blows
After the fifth round of the huts people poured
For acquaintance circle, guitars in hand
From somewhere shrouded in smoke fell shaman voodoo
Like, everything will be cool , I will treat each other
Here are just a tung shaman blew and immediately gave the oak
Fidel , Ernest , to cheer up a muddy , let conjures
But the old man , bitch , and mustache does not blow
Lies , kicks , drooling , here la puta!
Maybe that I messed up ?
Crutch bamboo fucking . Pours tequila, sambuca lights
Che Guevara long in the land , without Fidel Cuba
I'm on stilts alms at the Fashion Club
Nicaragua , Colombia , Bolivia
On the table a refreshing line of frost
Without legs , but the children in the authority I
Latin America, compactly la comedy !

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