| I'm sitting in a wheelbarrow | 
| Smoking my blue Winston | 
| And I would not break | 
| After all, I'm not fastened | 
| The owner and the wheelbarrow in the trash | 
| Smoking my blue Winston | 
| And how not to break | 
| I removed the pedal from the floor | 
| I take all the cigs from the glove box | 
| Crowds are moving along the sidewalk, | 
| But I smoke so slowly | 
| One by one in a row | 
| I think about money | 
| How would we live tomorrow | 
| After all, I'm simple as I am | 
| Life is not cereal with milk, | 
| And just a mixture of porridge, | 
| But someone is firing, scythe | 
| I turn up the volume | 
| Barking yard dog | 
| Gnawing on the bones | 
| Then spit up blood | 
| Hands folded along the hood | 
| I see their silhouettes | 
| How would the protection of the people | 
| All the same dirty clothes | 
| Bandits walk in uniform | 
| There is nothing human here | 
| Work for banknotes | 
| There are so many actors around | 
| I'm in the movie as a simple type | 
| I walk along the bridge | 
| I burn myself from the inside | 
| I would like to believe a little | 
| That there will be better days | 
| But I see how people are being poisoned | 
| Right up to the graves | 
| But I will ask the country | 
| Where will the kids be sent? | 
| What will happen after the war | 
| A temple is being built outside the city | 
| You were told to pray | 
| What would you feel | 
| Fear | 
| The system knits the tongue, | 
| But talent will not unleash | 
| Everything will be fine again | 
| My country will rise soon | 
| Don't release the navy | 
| God himself does not like war | 
| Everything will be fine again | 
| My country will rise soon | 
| Don't release the navy | 
| God himself does not like war |