Came here to collect my parcel
With a friendly smile on my face
But now I’m stuck here for 2 hours
What a dense ungodly place
I hate my local post-office
There’re always too many people
And just one cashier is working
Until she wants to have a lunch-break
Endless line of angry grannies
At any given time of day
They argue and blame Boris Yeltsin
If not for him it wouldn’t be that way
I hate my local post-office
There’re always too many people
And just one cashier is working
And if there’s both it’s just a paradise on earth
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