Текст песни Собаки Качалова - Дорога домой

Soldiers rode from war
Soldiers rode in the spring,
To those who have not been killed
Today, the road home.

Drank bitter alcohol
Someone smoked through the window
Someone was a commander,
And now anyway.

Way home...

Woman, their sister,
I carried so many on myself,
She saved so much
And how much she does not have time.

That’s why alcohol seemed to them
Bitter and sweeter than bread.
And the commander suddenly cried
He was the commander in the war.

Way home...

And dreams are ahead
Overtaking the composition,
All bridges and pillars
At the Kremlin outposts,

They waved birches,
Like girls hand
Driver, brakes,
Here is the road home.