This is my forest! |
I know every bush here.
|
I am aware of the situation. |
waiting here
|
New generation - indigenous from Russia,
|
Chernozem bears fruit. |
Leftists are not allowed!
|
Ask, young, and so many gray hairs.
|
The once fluffy camp drank clearings.
|
Meanly they poison ours by launching alien roots.
|
And strainingly in the sky the crows are circling.
|
Straightening the camp, we will help the lost,
|
Knocking out the teeth of those who poison our souls.
|
I will be harsh and before I retire,
|
Expanding the forest, I will start a family.
|
If you are in a foreign forest, then go from here through the forest!
|
Why should I walk with iron in my forest?
|
The scoundrel forester, until the gloss of the faces goes out,
|
Sells the remnants of wood - from the Jews a scammer!
|
He is a Natsyk - some kind of singer with a squint,
|
It's easier for us, for sure, *la! |
Break everyone's bottoms, damn it!
|
The prosecutor spit on the vein, the shoes are polished.
|
We remain beggars in our native forest.
|
And this undergrowth: young, daring, brutal,
|
Fucked up and give a fuck they say.
|
The roots are still thin, the water does not really climb,
|
Instead of the essence - insipid! |
With your head, yes into the abyss!
|
Chorus:
|
What are our years? |
Our years are difficult!
|
Who, what breed? |
Warriors or nobles!
|
There is always a way out. |
Remember!
|
It is possible to do what was thought impossible!
|
What are our years? |
Our years are difficult!
|
Who, what breed? |
Warriors or nobles!
|
There is always a way out. |
Remember!
|
It is possible to do what was thought impossible!
|
I will chop at the root and burn mercilessly.
|
No back doors, a rout from the front door.
|
Mined with ashes, I irrigate my native expanses,
|
By arranging hell, you will understand my crow!
|
Burn in the air, panic takes off the masks
|
And when the rebellious weed looks wary.
|
The forester hides his eyes, the plague and srach are there!
|
Dirty knees, asks - do not kill and cries.
|
Previously, they had no time to fuss and run,
|
And the meeting place cannot be changed - a pharmacy.
|
Gleb Zheglov has sunk into oblivion - an idol with a glass.
|
Representative of the locality, the cross, like advertising!
|
Breathing is hard! |
Ashes settle in the lungs,
|
By the statute of limitations, they pissed away their juices a long time ago.
|
Among tall trunks and age-old turntables,
|
Offal from shavings, but this is how it is needed today!
|
Chorus:
|
What are our years? |
Our years are difficult!
|
Who, what breed? |
Warriors or nobles!
|
There is always a way out. |
Remember!
|
It is possible to do what was thought impossible!
|
What are our years? |
Our years are difficult!
|
Who, what breed? |
Warriors or nobles!
|
There is always a way out. |
Remember!
|
It is possible to do what was thought impossible!
|
What are our years? |
Our years are difficult!
|
Who, what breed? |
Warriors or nobles!
|
There is always a way out. |
Remember!
|
It is possible to do what was thought impossible!
|
What are our years? |
Our years are difficult!
|
Who, what breed? |
Warriors or nobles!
|
There is always a way out. |
Remember!
|
It is possible to do what was thought impossible! |