Текст песни Леонид Корнилов - БМП - 15000

BMP - 15000

Twenty five ... The age of our ashes.
We would be forty with a dozen.
We lay on the Afghan chopping block
The first swallow in the Soviet collapse.
Pouring blood, then sweat
Having lost orders and medals,
We are in fraternal infantry vehicles
Between hell and paradise stuck.
We are nowhere. We are in the wreckage of a power.
They didn’t take us out. It's not about the wounds.
The country was dying ... and lay ...
And flew on the "black tulips."
We will return from there, hardly:
Through the death of neither bridges nor ferries.
But we didn’t fight for that,
To become the governor of Gromov.
Not for Afghan shacks
Our bullets left holes.
Not for Kvachkov and Khabarov
We dreamed in prison uniforms.
Not for the platoon, porous -
Withdrawal of troops ... to the Chechen massacre ...
Not for the lists of "two hundredth"
Voted parental pain.
Not for that! .. No way! .. And powerless
The shadows of the dead fled to Termez.
Not troops, - deduced Russia
From the composition of a great power.
Someone has their own way, you know !?
Why do you swallow red foam?
You know, when you die ...
And you, as a cartridge, are sent.
And take the BMP in a rusty system
Between heaven and hell heights.
And the power lies with us
In our mass graves of infantry.

02/15/14
Leonid Kornilov