Текст песни Виталий Леонов - Танкист

I see a mountain village in a narrow format,
I watch over the situation through the bulletproof glass.
Crumble my vosmidesyatki concrete trucks,
Sweeping bunkers vzbesnovavshihsya enemies.
For a week we will not storm the rest,
Gryzёm stronghold of militants in Karamahi.
We are calling for the Motherland fighting,
And our tanks carry the spirits of death and fear.

My grandfather tanker in Prokhorovka in the 43rd
In the battle with the Nazis was a hero.
As the pilot Nicholas Gastello he lined,
His tridtsatchetvёrkoy rammed "tiger".
In the 80th, my Dad, already Colonel,
He commanded a tank regiment in Afghanistan.
Though not necessary, but he led the column,
And there was repeatedly wounded him.

I came my turn and dank day in December
Hit by an RPG with my T-62nd.
To the meat grinder in 95th in Grozny
Saved us a bloody infantry price.
I'll be the last to be Russian,
As long as it does not shut up all the enemies.
Tankers, like all soldiers are not saints,
But God will forgive, I hope all of our sins.

That year I see the world in a narrow format
It depends life from the view through bulletproof glass.
Thanks to his grandfather and father, native soldiers,
What do they become an example of a tanker I was lucky
I am refusing to shake for gas turbine roar.
And he hits on sifflet.
And from under the tracks fly fountains clay
I am a Russian officer, a hereditary tanker.