The spurs dug into the sides, shouts are heard: "Get into a gallop!"
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Having bitten the bit, we put our forehead under the whips.
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The hump grows every day, there is a trace of a yoke on the face.
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I would have seen the hope in the eyes of the legendary Yermak.
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Behind the wall - the wall, behind the trouble - trouble.
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But they don’t let you breathe - here is your quinoa.
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The role of the appendage cripples worse than any chains.
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Heresy shakes the brains from the Ob to the Argun steppes.
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They say that when you cry, it is easier to endure.
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Well, if there are no tears, there is only one way - you have to sing.
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The ligaments are tied into a knot, we drink from impotence.
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But doubts - is it worth living? |
We won't hesitate to kill.
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Our mother is Siberia, and the Urals are our father.
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Here they grind their teeth when a smoothie pours honey.
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The gums are bleeding, the fangs are worn to dust.
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Anger deprives musty lairs of sleep, -
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We sharpen bayonets.
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We were tired of smoldering, humps crackled.
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We are ready to burn, cheekbones reduce: “In the rear!”
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It is in your power to bring down the flame with a skillful hand.
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But when our fires die, you will be shivering.
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January brought us together, the ritual was not new.
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Hear, brother, we said goodbye to see each other again.
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We're trying to get up, don't stop us from getting up.
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You sucked us out for so many years
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It's time to give back! |