I am a fragment of the train, night, station, eyes out the window.
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I am wet like matches heaven in Borodino.
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Lanterns gnaw the alley, the locomotive is like a block of ice
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In the black soot on the yards, a baron horde.
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Wicked stage
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The zeks sleep at roll call in a dirty puddle by the stall.
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Citizen chief jumps a document in the wind,
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And on the rails, time is crying, we will be happy by morning.
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Life is sick, cough is boredom, heartburn drinks from the river
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Licks the ashes, barks the bitch at the movement of the hand.
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It's so deadly icy in the bandaged station
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Rusty medals are pouring in - heaven in Borodino.
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We believed that we knew for sure that life would not be so bitter
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Let's live in warmth, but picking at the stall from the edge.
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We will link the earth with stalls, we will connect the West and the East
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Bay McDonald's - I will only accept our own tray.
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Our stall for all of us joy flies with meaning in the wind
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There is trouble in it and the disco in it is salvation in the morning.
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My Russia, you dream of many a prophetic dream - always a nightmare
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Both the rich and the poor - everyone got this gift.
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What is revealed to us in the world, what centuries will burp out to us.
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In a five-room apartment, I drink myself at the stall.
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Goats pour freedom of lies on my freedom of speech
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Citizen chief, again tell an evil tale.
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Who we should become, I don’t know whether we believe that steel is strong
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Russia is finished off by sunset, crucifying at the stall.
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Cities knock with a screen on the foreheads of frozen villages
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We leave too early, leaving rubbish.
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We went our way along the fascists, along the pop
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We dragged our souls to God, unfortunately not all of them survived.
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And spiritually, as beauty cuts the sky on a sigh
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We tear your crumbs to a blank canvas with our teeth.
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Beauty, you are dear here, inaccessible, not easy
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We are watching you while having a hangover at the stall.
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You will save us, I know for sure, I am your enemy, your food...
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Beauty does not disappear, it just goes away sometimes.
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Dis comment, oh, teint, oh, beaute, oh, beaute.
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Mais jamais, oh, pourra, arriver
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Jusquoi, dis comment, on te voit
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Dans cette boueh, o beaute
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Pour ne pas oublier
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Ces beaux reves de toi. |