Текст песни Александр Видякин - Письмо в Россию

We live in the country of morons,
Among the black and jews.
We live at the bottom of the grave,
In the evil "Paradise" for fools.

We miss Russia,
We are tired of lies.
Here, on the bottom, we did not forget
Our Russian edges.

Village, church, field,
Above the skies ...
It's all for us not a share
This is the life of fullness.

Without her and the light is not sweet to us
Everything got dressed alien to darkness.
Here, at the bottom of the big grave,
Under the blood star.

We want home to return,
To not extinguished altars.
We want to wake up soon
Give on the face with red psam.

Hanging Rus dear
For wild years
Where smoothly, wasted,
Above the ground rises dawn.

Where is cold light steel
Oboyan every hour
Where kaliy sadness,
Shooting grief harvest us.

We live in the country of morons,
In the camp of black and jews.
We live at the bottom of the grave,
In shackles without shackles.

We live only expect
Return home
From cruel expellity
To our homeland saint.