Текст песни Александр Чернецкий - Вены

My freedom
to the wall of the plant
My joy -
White nasty
My love -
insane pain
My faith
In mitigation measures.

My anger -
it's mud handy
My will -
Wind in a clean field,
My house -
someone's dirty floor
My motherland -
Orthodox status.

Cold walls, concrete lives,
Elastic veins, foolish thoughts,
Do not climb into my soul with your advice,
Spring again in a red carcass and people with portraits.

Holy shit, humiliation and meanness,
Faith is unknown in what, as a result, hopelessness,
Again flakes foam and the Duma of death
And strings as veins, and veins as a loop.

My freedom
to the wall of the plant
My joy -
White nasty
My cross -
already prepares the forest
My hope
on holy clothes.

We grew up like grass,
We broke their walls,
But if it was not in vain,
You can hardly cut Vienna now.