We are forced to burn, throwing fireworks words
In broken on-third devices our goals.
From the mud of our desires into the world of sprouting flowers
Disappointment, the buds of the void.
Disappointments, buds of emptiness.
he future of children rests with a bayonet in the back.
We are building a house out of bones, blood turning to clay.
We are told: "You owe all your lives to the Motherland!",
But we are more than complicated, it seems.
We ourselves will survive, peregnoem in the memory of each other.
We will burn names on winds of the Crimean South.
We'll get over the tolerance break. Guess what
Black cannot be the opposite of white.
Words of gratitude for every brave heart,
Which will be more - and will now be able to love
And I know such hearts nobody will deceive!
And maybe the crumbs of love warmth spilled summer rain,
The fact that burned to the ground will rise up in it!
The flames are inside of you and me Our eyes are blinded by tears
Red stems stretch up to the hate of fire
The suns of our hearts slowly fade with sparks in the ashes
Each of us is already dead, red stems stretch up