Name of the Father, Son and
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In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
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My fluff is smoldering
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In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of our Tsar and Mikhail Krug
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of our Tsar and Mikhail Krug
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of our Tsar and Mikhail Krug
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of our Tsar and Mikhail Krug
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of our Tsar and Mikhail Krug
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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Hey, my fluff is smoldering
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Whisper in my ear how cool you were at night
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We are not from the hot South, a blizzard covered the house
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To the barking of dogs and the clinking of glasses
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We are only heroes, hence the change currency
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By command by cabin
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Where uncles in suits shot at us
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Blizzard is not the State Duma now
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Slightly black Mazda, pour oil into the fire
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I press on the gas to red
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When it's boring, so fool around
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Why am I worse than the children of princes from Moscow
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I lead a life, a wanderer
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Drooling at the sight of a dirty buck
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Every day poisoned by food
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Wallowing on the stove, drunken dancing
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My spit is smoldering, my life is cranberry
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In Petliura's player, the barrel at your beak
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My spit is smoldering, my life is cranberry
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In Petliura's player, the barrel at your beak
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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My spit is smoldering, hallelujah
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Bees fly into hives, a bullet flies at us
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My spit is smoldering, hallelujah
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Bees fly into hives, a bullet flies at us
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In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering
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In the name of our Tsar and Mikhail Krug
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My flare is smoldering, my flare is smoldering |