Текст песни Dub Buk - Дохлый живьём

On a clear day, the fire of God
Crying and moaning dusty icons.
The thrill of living in the people alive,
Smoke censers sun eclipsed.

Value ulcers, downed knees.
Scrape the stems of dried veins.
The new cult of saints Jackals -
On the cross, dead alive.

God's will, God's prisoner,
Wear smokes Christ.
Humble obedience,
Full cup anguish and tears.

With the poison of snakes, mice shrieking
Code sucked slippery vassal.
With the stench of feet stink synagogues
In the footsteps of, to help the priests.

Cold spokes, alkali Hands,
Behind the altar important thing.
Trash outside, the same twice,
Know warp, begging and waiting.

Instead of stars - an alien graveyard.
Instead of ice - the holy water.
Instead of troubles - the Old Testament.
Instead of evil - a toad goat.

There is sadness, there is the coast.
There is sand, no boulders.
There are fathers, no mothers.
It gives life a dead Jew.