| I will remain ashes on my lips
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| I will remain a flame in the eyes
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| In your hands with the breath of the wind
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| I will remain snow on my cheek
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| I will remain a light in the distance
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| I will remain light for you
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| Light
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| How much is connected with this city in memory
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| Cold wind, my motor knocks, burns in my chest
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| We are driving along the cobblestones
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| The days here flew like slate after the blue in the package
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| We were buzzing liver, cables, greedy children
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| The Gestapo remembers my paws
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| The boys dripped into their eyes, but I didn't drip something
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| It smelled of brine for the whole city when we circled
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| In batches, they got fucked, but more often they lived
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| Santia Vesta cut something small
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| Leave unnoticed and burn it's little things
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| Sports interest for sports
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| Football with its theme in different clothes, like orphans
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| Someone is beaten on an elite, taken away in an ambulance,
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| But what happened in the morning, he won't even remember
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| Pit city, whirlpool city, instigator city
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| The city is drunk, the city is dead, the city is traitors
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| It seems I know everyone, but not everyone personally
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| You shake someone's hand, it's indecent about someone
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| Here, according to the season, silence will sand you in snot
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| Here the lanterns do not burn, the huts and donuts burn
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| The second victory of van love, Kaliningrad car
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| Both parks, Gestapo, tanks, cellar
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| I've spent my whole life here
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| Salam to all my loved ones
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| I say love, but if I say it sincerely
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| I want to leave where I was born
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| Here principle stifles and sick of the same faces
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| Everything is connected with this city
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| Only a thin thread separates us
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| Can't forget the days gone by
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| Shoulder to shoulder, brother for brother, everything is so familiar
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| So it's fucked up to remember how they joked
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| They smashed the huts to shreds
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| In the summer we drink blue somewhere in the park on a bench
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| Hard frenzy after the first locomotives in shaking
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| My native Chernyakhovsk people put on masks
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| Thank God they are often plucked here
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| Can't fuck
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| Everyone knows perfectly well who you are
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| Not words, but actions speak for you
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| Here for honor every other day they beat on the jaw
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| The city of the pit, the city of fornication is not the whole list
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| You can't slow down for anything
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| I'll draw a line, I'll fix my helmet
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| Light
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| Light
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| Light |