Moscow was driven into the paint
An egg for Easter in the middle of the fast
Forgetting to wash off the burning
Siberian distances Tsar-domes
Drowning in lies of the Charge
Lands three spans of milk shores
It flows like a jelly river
A tear from the candles of Forgiven Thursdays
They remember the courtyards of Khitrovka
Spitting consumption, and in a terrible dream
Crane Countries
It's like a forest of gallows poles
Crushes the Khodynka field
To the pain point of a big country
Conscience burns quickly
In thе colored neon lights of Moscow