Evening, train, lights,
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Long road…
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Give me, brother, cod
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And some vodka.
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Basan, bassan, bassan,
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Basanata, bassanata...
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What with wine, what without wine -
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My heart is slanted.
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I am gray beyond my years
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And with a dry foot,
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Have you heard about Magadan?
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Didn't you hear?! |
So listen.
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And it happened like this:
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One strange night
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Showed up at our barracks
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Kum with all the guards.
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I thought it was the end
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Goodbye motherly...
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Salted cucumber
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Kum chewed carefully.
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Say a word and eat
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The muzzle is all in apathy.
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“There was,” he said, “shit, the congress
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Glorious to our party.
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About China and about Laos
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Debates were spoken
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But the question arose
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About Father and Genius".
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Kum finished eating cucumber
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And finished with flour:
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"Our Father turned out to be
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Not a father, but a bitch ... "
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Full, brothers, attack!
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Memorial service with dances!
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And ordered statues
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Pick up at the station overnight.
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Can you imagine - a blizzard is sweeping,
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Darkness, hellish cold,
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And on Him is one overcoat
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Rough, soldierly.
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And He stands straight ahead,
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And flies like a cavalry
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I am His boot - pickle,
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And the boot does not prick!
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I looked around -
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Let me stop, please!
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The statue suddenly has lips
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Touched with a smile...
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I remember I was stupid and small,
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Heard from a parent
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How my parent broke
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Cathedral of Christ the Savior.
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Basan, bassan, bassan,
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The devil walks with the opera.
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Temple - and I wouldn't give a damn.
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Opium is like opium!
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And this is the Genius of all times,
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Best friend forever!
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We all stand, we roar,
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Both vokhrovtsy and zeks.
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I am a pick on the boot
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I hit like a restless
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And suddenly through a blizzard
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I hear the voice of stone:
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“I was your Leader and Father,
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How many torments are planned!
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What are you doing, scoundrel?!
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Drop the pick immediately!"
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But then the fuse shied away,
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Sanctions have been applied
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I fell and He fell
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Crashed half the station...
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Well, they cut off our time,
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Attributed to the authorities
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I'm still alive
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But, as you can see, twitchy ...
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Basan, bassan, bassan,
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Basanata, bassanata!
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They climb into the field from the window
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Imps, Imps...
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Get off, dead people!
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Fuck it, for God's sake...
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Evening, train, lights,
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Long road… |