My fire is not extinguished, it is inside.
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I go with him into the darkness, full of them.
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There forward stands, where a menacing view.
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The thin, diseased crowns of willows stretch into the sky.
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My path is long, into that steppe of evil, I am a gloomy traveler.
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My rap is a gift, wrapped her better in darkness.
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I sat down, waiting for a fist over my head.
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We are all a sign.
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I'm a reluctant son of a bitch.
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On the battlefield, I miss hooks in cabbage soup.
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Pretty painful, someone would be scared.
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But I kick like a bull, and they hit like you.
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Through the fields in boots, past fields and mines.
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We are they, the shooting range is one.
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Descended from the axis into the hole, the world flies ..
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I take a shield and a sword, I want to live and be.
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The caravan leaves into the darkness,
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There willows are black-black, horror, darkness.
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There are rivers of dead fish, fallen birds, fallen us,
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But I'll be back, you know.
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The paw of discord is like ivy, like an octopus
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If I turn around, they won't understand me.
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Dear, do not grieve, do not call, do not forget.
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When there, far away, I will dissolve in smoke.
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The caravan leaves to the south, goes into the darkness.
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Everyone took their dream so that it warmed there in hell.
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A new pain - a forgotten dream.
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Sent to the chamber cartridge.
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Whoever encroached on my house will be buried in it.
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The caravan leaves to the south, where the covers from the tree are given as a gift.
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Where the demons of war sing to us all.
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With red-hot muzzles to the beat, e.
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Hit and hit is my instinct
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If the world is like a ring, if it is in the blood.
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Behind my back is my house, my angel is sleeping there,
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Opened my mouth on them, bitch? |
No problem, get it!
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The caravan leaves for the south early in the morning.
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I hold love in my hands, I am silent.
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I'm just not breathing.
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I touch the strands with my hand.
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Just ironing them is best.
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But the demons were seen here across the river,
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And again they collect the men.
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The caravan leaves to the south, full of unloading.
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Lead tears poison the pulse.
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Tears taste completely different.
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I'm on my way, like everyone else.
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I sat down with her for five minutes.
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I warm in my hands, I hold, I wait for the dawn.
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Pieces of the past come to me
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In green meadows in the grass.
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I kissed my knees, burned,
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Free as the wind from these steppes.
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Oh, if I knew about the bitch war
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That the native fields will smoke,
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You will shout: "Look, the fields are burning!"
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But I swear to you: who stepped with a sword,
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Dear, here - he did it in vain.
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The caravan leaves to the south, the horizon in the distance is flooded with blood.
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The smell of sweat there, gunpowder, swill, the smell of burnt hemp.
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A dirty paw crawls into my house.
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Unceremonious nasty bastard.
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Time to show fangs.
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Who is the dad here, who is the queen and the don.
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The covered parapet blew everyone away.
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Small success.
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But we are an unnecessary load of two hundred.
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Further path into the forest.
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Demons where there, across the river.
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The look of the shadow catches under the visor.
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Is the caravan alive? |
Bow to the native land.
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Who am I without these fields?
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Well, who am I without these fields, tell me.
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Those that are on fire groan, and I can only burn with them.
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Who is without this hair? |
Who without these I hands, dear to me?
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Ready to die for their lives.
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My homeland, dear, kind land.
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My Motherland, you are my only one.
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Motherland, be patient! |
Motherland.
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My Motherland, you are the only one for me ... |