It can be for nothing, of course, but I hurry to the date.
I made up my mind 100%, but expectation overcomes.
But the wind, as ill luck would have it, messed up my hair.
I dance the "raga-raga," shoes on suction cups.*

La-la-la-la, la-la.
La-la-la-la, la-la.
At halt I'm bored in thoughts about you.
Not yet hurried, dreaming, I painted my lips.
The bus didn't come, as if it broke down on a land mine.
Love waits for me like that, but I turned my back.

My love cries,
Like a bead rolls,
Mine flies
Right under a slope

It can be for nothing, of course, but again to the date.
You too wait for me, and I'm in your expectation.
And the wind is like meh, but it doesn't matter, I have a comb.
I'm dancing the "raga-raga," "raga-raga"...

Chorus

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