Текст песни Сергей Трофимов - Джомолунгма

Hey brother! Do not rush to kill me!
Both of us were born by our mother, both of us were raised by the sky.
Hey brother! I'm the same as you, rich man:
A true sword and a crimson cloak, and a crumb of rye bread.

Our wounds cannot be cured
Even after thousands of years.
The gods are right because they are eternal
And for them we simply are not.

Chorus:
Chomolungma becomes gray dust
The oceans will dry to the bottom.
Our blood and tears will become in the cup of Buddha
A drop of red wine.

Hey brother! We were taught that there is no pain
What a handful of gold coins you can become executioners.
Hey brother! These people lied to us!
You and I defiled the temple with battle swords.

And behind us are the stones of the universe
With the names of the dead gods.
And the flowers grow on the battlefield
On the bones of the dead regiments.

Chorus

How many centuries have the people of the beast pitted us
For whom we reaped death, believing
That God was with us and the shed blood
This is the payment for holy immaculate love.

Steel chopped flesh fun and scary
Millions died in a melee
The earth moaned and lay on it
Crescent and Cross under the hooves of horses.

And death screamed, exulting:
"Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"

Chorus

Our blood and tears will become in the cup of Buddha
A drop of red wine.

Hey brother! Do not rush to kill me!
Both of us were born by our mother, both of us were raised by the sky ...