| In the direction of Kolyma,
|
| Life suddenly rolled along the stage,
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| From prison to prison
|
| The locomotive ran, ran somewhere.
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| Long way, state house,
|
| A gypsy told me a long time ago
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| Frost overboard,
|
| And the quagmire sucked me in.
|
| Chorus:
|
| me to the government house,
|
| Carries a trailer car along the tundra,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| And I, brothers, keep the style.
|
| Why me and how much
|
| And fuck this whole bandy,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| Life has turned around.
|
| Let it hiccup at least once
|
| That old fortuneteller at the station,
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| Across the living
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| Divorced, infection, chatted.
|
| There is a tambourine interest
|
| And empty chores in kind,
|
| My life is a dense forest
|
| And as in the song, the windows are in the fittings.
|
| Chorus:
|
| me to the government house,
|
| Carries a trailer car along the tundra,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| And I, brothers, keep the style.
|
| Why me and how much
|
| And fuck this whole bandy,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| Life has turned around.
|
| And when I lay back
|
| Then I decided to stay away from sin
|
| Move to warm lands
|
| So that at minus forty here you don’t bang.
|
| I won't go anymore
|
| Not to any gypsy at the station,
|
| Enough, well, fuck her,
|
| So that I don’t guess anything else.
|
| Chorus:
|
| me to the government house,
|
| Carries a trailer car along the tundra,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| And I, brothers, keep the style.
|
| Why me and how much
|
| And fuck this whole bandy,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| Life has turned around.
|
| me to the government house,
|
| Carries a trailer car along the tundra,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| And I, brothers, keep the style.
|
| Why me and how much
|
| And fuck this whole bandy,
|
| Outside minus forty with a breeze,
|
| Life has turned around. |