Текст песни Илья Сойер - Русская Смерть

My dream - Smells Like Teen Spirit
At the church bells in the minus thirty
But in the gray- blue jeans with dust
Drunk teens with adults .

In Siberia, you can not smile,
Here sunsets too gassy cold ,
Here Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson
With outstretched hands are hungry .

Foreign directors trendy
Uparyvayutsya substances of varying severity ,
And we look out the window and catching rhythms
The frozen soil and Russian holiness.

Here every balcony Siberian Hruschev time period
The Messenger of God Archangel Gabriel
Monitors , as we choose , drinking vodka,
Place for their graves.

Russian Parnassus - not the top
For musical harmonies of heaven.
Russian Parnassus - matershina ,
Frost , forest and porches .

Russia - a big black hole .
Annually lost eighty thousand ,
Here there is neither good nor evil ,
Fatherland sucks all Napoleons and Fritz.

Russia - this is the first circle of hell ,
Here are born and there are dead .
It's a real cold truth
Resonances glasses and loud bell .

Russia - a monastery in the weeds ,
Rivers, swamps and pure truth.
Russia - a death in the sundress .
She was born in the shot .

My mother Russia!
I carefully carry your cross .
And if offered to fly on the wings ,
No. I will not leave their homes .