Juice Leskinen in the footsteps of

I still remember it

granny angry.

He crosses stinging,

sharp, mouth

I believe under the guise of bounces.

I pity him,

smile, no barking

wound inside me do.

Again, I look forward to the time,

Spring streams now magic.

Water in December,

now in the middle of snow

currencies, lmakes a noise.

Whether a moment of weak natural,

a moment of pollution black poor.

To pollute its natural fjord.

An oil slick messes up a wild fox muzzle,

I get on a bad conscience.

I will give rhymes, chords, go to

queue out of the wait.

The world treats me wrong,

piss, it can not be satisfied,

I roll my sleeves to fight.

I remember Juice Leskinen created words

the atmosphere, their footsteps

I travel nimble chords, feet.

Now the winter time passes, you already go,

the spring of hope for the wind there fly.