Текст песни гр.Культура быта - Чума

Daytime
Loud shouts of Ur
The victory over the foreign strangers,
In the fight for themselves.
The main thought in silence
Please moaning quietly.
Anyway here Silence
Even in the crowd.

Everyone sees the crumbling throne.
The sky is falling.
And run away, looking for their own happiness,
When everyone is unhappy.

Dark, dirty night
Lurking in wait in the morning.
Aliens are looking good,
Their are only evil.
Torn strings as veins.
Which did not have time to open.
And every word - no.
Sense of the word - Yes.

That would have to score at the sky,
And stay to the right.
Here would be fun,
To the joy of honest people.
Old strange holiday,
Feast in Time of Plague.
There will be no other comings,
And tomorrow night will not.