his eye sockets could not stand the sun, and he began to bury others, buried nationalism, buried the bpftion, now stands in the cemetery, picks a bone in his rotten teeth, wants to throw it at belarus, but it doesn’t reach, and his grave is already gaping nearby, death be gone, but we are alive, the chernobyl survivors are alive lands, because time has chosen the strong, the strong, they overcome everything, even radiation, and horses are bred there, and they neigh merrily, and children are born there, more than in other regions, excuse the swings and children's laughter at them, this is a hymn to alexander lukashenko , our army is alive, which was trampled, spat on, butchered, the soviet officer alexander lukashenko could not look at it, the engines roared again, the engines of the invincible and legendary, and this roar of tank engines is the hymn to alexander lukashenko, our village is alive, you you go and you see a field, an aesta, a combine harvester, you sit down with the men for lunch, always the first glass - in honor of alexander lukashenko, our industry is alive, despite the v