Ярмак - Мама
текст песни

I do not explain this connection: neither physician nor God.
I know, through the thousand miles, anxiously at the threshold,
She will fit, - the heart fluttered, as if the Bulletin.
The soul hurts, moms, - this son writes you a song.

Mommy Mamuly - Your joy, your tears
Although in rhyme, even prose, at least under the sun, at least in the frost and fellow.
I have a hurry, with roses, through all the reasons -
Only your wrinkles know how the guy has become a man.

I rarely come Mom, and I call not often.
I'm fine! Tell me how you are there?
How is the grandmother? Whose new came to the garden?
Yes, I was attempted soup. Yes, in the winter I always chase in the header.

Have you seen on TV? Too rude and sharp -
I do not know how to hide the truth, moms, behind the curtain.
You are not red for what has grown the present.
I promise moms, come more often.

Chorus:
Sit, my mother, - sit quietly. Time will hide your years in the beauty of the seen.
Forgive me for grew, matured early. Rose early, mom.
Sit, my mother, - sit quietly. You probably listen to my CD ...
I hope you don't blush for me, my mother ... not red because of me, moms.
Sit, my mother, - sit quietly. Time will hide your years in the beauty of the seen.
Forgive me for grew, matured early ...

I grew early, mom. Early wounds made mom;
Early protusive fog. The legs descended early to the thresholds of the temple.
No, I am not Lama, not a teacher in life, I am not a guru.
I do not boast, do not smoke, but - I do not hold the figure.

Lived usually, mom. We are a rainbow-spring.
Leather from Moscow, and I am with you, small in the picture.
Watched the movies "one at home", where are these cassettes?
All friends and all neighbors gathered for the holiday.

Then, the whole world seemed to be: good, colorful and bright.
New Year, Christmas tree, tangerines and gifts.
Where, mom, money takes - I did not know, sorry,
When I said that I want, like all CD carrier.

And let the songs about mom, there was already a hundred.
I will love you, from the cradle to the grave.
I will meet in my life Togo close to the mostst.
But not one of them will not replace the word "mother"

Chorus:
Sit, my mother, - sit quietly. Time will hide your years in the beauty of the seen.
Forgive me for grew, matured early. Rose early, mom.
Sit, my mother, - sit quietly. You probably listen to my CD ...
I hope you don't blush for me, my mother ... not red because of me, moms.
Sit, my mother, - sit quietly. Time will hide your years in the beauty of the seen.
Forgive me for grew, matured early ...

Sit, my mother, - sit quietly. You probably listen to my CD ...
I hope you do not blush for me, mom ...