| We are looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for the way to the house | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way to home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Firmament starry stencil | 
| In the atmosphere it would be malicious not to burn out | 
| That aseptolin wild mumble | 
| Just Mandalorian is my dialect | 
| And you thought you'd be like Star-Lord | 
| And you thought you'd be like Boba Fett | 
| Yes, but infinity is not the limit | 
| And you carry a hair dryer to the grave without pale | 
| The freshest air, already sickening | 
| Lost in a haystack and can't find it | 
| To your inner Kyshtym the right path | 
| As if the humanoid Alyoshenka | 
| Aliens in kokoshniks will meet me | 
| With a loaf and salt, already trembling in the hands | 
| And they say: "Happy birthday, bro | 
| Treat your head with plantain " | 
| Let fate throw out a trick | 
| Dine will require tar | 
| A dagger plunges into the back up to the hilt | 
| Having made a cog at a cotton factory, let | 
| May the Motherland affectionately | 
| On the way, he will collect a string bag for me | 
| Spreading me on the heating main | 
| Snow angel drunk on the board | 
| And we're looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Huge nostrils - wormholes | 
| Sneaking through the air gallon after gallon | 
| We are looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| You thought to go to your home planet | 
| But again returned to the house of cardboard | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| After a hundred years of wandering, I | 
| I'm still at zero | 
| No matter how my brain boils | 
| I'm still at zero | 
| Will find me in the blue haze | 
| Grown-up son | 
| And he will say: “Dad, what kind of aliens, damn it? | 
| You're drunk, let's go home" | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| Looking for a way home | 
| Searching and looking for a way home | 
| The freshest air, already sickening | 
| Lost in a haystack and can't find it | 
| To your inner Kyshtym the right path | 
| As if the humanoid Alyoshenka | 
| Aliens in kokoshniks will meet me | 
| With a loaf and salt, already trembling in the hands | 
| And say "Happy birthday, bro | 
| Treat your head with plantain " | 
| Would fly off on parsecs | 
| Would fly away, yes for good | 
| Space beckons the young | 
| And three decades later | 
| Fly away like the first snow | 
| Fly away to be empty | 
| You spend the night completely flying away | 
| In the forest belt | 
| (“There’s no one, who the fuck knows why it all stopped. | 
| Like an alien on his flying saucer. | 
| Inopr ... and a native of Shire ... How is it? .. | 
| Iproshelenets ... How is it? .. Not ... Inoshapotyani") |