Текст песни Сергей Чикалов - Всё теперь против нас

Everything is now against us, as if we were not wearing a cross
Like aspids, we are Basurman blood
We don’t even have a place in the Russians dumbfounded from the grief
And the Lord does not hear us, call - don't call

We're not sleeping for a year, we hide the offense under the uniforms
Waiting for a servile bullet lower than buttonholes
Here's a year, as Tobolsk phoned the tsar with a memorial service
And anathematized the souls of the killers

They are neither God nor the king, nor pain or conscience
All prisons down, yes fire to heaven
And fate for us read this sad story
In the inflamed eyes of mothers and brides

And they look at us in the wake of them for a long time in silent reproach
Like an abandoned house for a road from darkness
There is nowhere to retreat further - followed by the Japanese Sea
Our Russia ends here and we

In red St. Petersburg, a white blizzard is spinning
White hook on the walls of Moscow churches
There is no joy in the gray sky, no fright
Only the grief of the Mother of God in Russia