Many a hand has scaled the grand old fase of the plateau.
Some belong to strangers and some to folks you know.
Holy dhost and talk show hosts are planted in the sand
To beutify the foodhills,shake the many hangs.
Chorus:
Nothing on the top but a busket and a mop
And an illustrated books about birds.
You see a lot up there but don't be scared.
Who needs action when you got words?
When you've finished with the mop when you can stop
And look at that you've done.
The plateus clearn,no dift to be sean,
And the work ,it was fun.
Chorus.
Many a hands begun to scan around for the next plateau.
Some say it was Greenland and some say Mexico.
Others desided it was nohere exept for where they stood.
Those there all just guesses wouldn't help you if they could.
Plato (Kurt Kirkvud)
Mnogo ruk skoblili poverhnost' velikogo starogo plato.
Nekotorye byli rukami ljudej neznakomyh,nekotorye-
tvoih prijatelej znakomcev.
Prizraki svjatyh i gosti tok-shou posazheny v pesok,
Chtoby oblagorodit' podnozh'e holmov,pozhmi mnozhestvo ruk.
Pripev:
Na vershine nichego-lish' vedro i shvabra,
Da knizhka pro ptic s kartinkami,
Ty uvidish' tuchi ptic,no ne pugajsja,
Komu nuzhny kakie-to dejstvija,esli ty nashel nuzhnye slova?
Kogda zakonchishb elozit' shvabroj,mozhesh' peredohshut',
I poljubovat'sja na svoju rabotu,
Plato chisto,ne odnogo pjatnyshka ne vidat',
A rabotat' bylo-odno udovol'stvie.
Pripev.
Mnogo ruk nachinajut proschupyvat' sledujuschee plato,
Kto-to govorit e'to bylo Grenlandiej,kto-to-Meksikoj,
Drugie reshili,chto takogo mesta net voobsche,
a est' lish' te zemli,gde prozhivali oni sami,
No e'to-vsego lish' dosuzhie domysly,dogadki,
kotorye nichem tebe ne pomogut.
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