| Never sit on a needle | 
| But the plank is nothing, the plank is possible. | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Dissolving somewhere higher | 
| I glue your souls, help yourself to be heard. | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Dissolving somewhere higher | 
| It's raining on the roofs of the dark streets, Vasya, do you hear? | 
| Bong breathes softly, digesting the chips | 
| Looking at the ceiling you see only a sea of flashes, | 
| A bunch of thoughts, I hope I'm all dreaming | 
| The whisper in silence is clogged and the windows will not hear, | 
| Streets in Russia are not neighborhoods in Nice. | 
| White smoke in the darkness will replace all who will be below, | 
| For the Almighty, ha, your friends have not been breathing for a long time. | 
| Each for himself and each wants to be killed. | 
| You smoke in one, kneading bumps with your finger, | 
| You scrape the garik off the lid, I've only been going to for a long time. | 
| No frills, ha, I'm not sure what you're hearing | 
| Fuck all the deaf, believe me, I know I was lower. | 
| Hands to heaven and you will see everything a little closer, | 
| Ha, and don't forget to take it from them. | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Believe me, I know who you are. | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Hands to heaven | 
| Believe me, I know who you are. | 
| After all, I have long been no longer where they like to blow a delicious plan, | 
| All the shit behind me and all the people who lied to me, | 
| I will allow silence to pierce my stone into the astral. | 
| Ha, I haven't been there for a long time. | 
| Hands to heaven, I dissolve somewhere higher | 
| It's raining on the roofs of the dark streets, Vasya, do you hear? | 
| Bong breathes softly, digesting the chips | 
| Looking at the ceiling you see only a sea of flashes, | 
| A bunch of thoughts, I hope I'm all dreaming | 
| The whisper in silence is clogged and the windows will not hear, | 
| Streets in Russia are not neighborhoods in Nice, | 
| Ha, and don't forget, you'll get taller. |