Текст песни The Receptorz - Дым промышленных зон

Upper wants bones
To build the new locks on them.
Society wants chains
Strong arm, steel orders.

At night I dream of smoke
Open arms fire industrial zones.
Burned alive waving alive
The terrible reality emerges in a dream

Grey melting snow
Cleans stains stuffy
The illusion that we're prosrali
The illusion that we won

All hold the line, his eyes strictly on the ground.
It smells of vanilla sky for those who have not smelled.
Life is getting more expensive, but we are all cheaper.
glass and basement, for those who Prochukhan.
We do not choose, we do not choose.
Hungry - bitterness, well-fed - the sweetness.
And it is always, alas, is the same.
Few meet a dignified old age