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In the night, from the hill |
|
Creeping shadows, cold caress |
|
On your face, hit the ground |
|
And feel the blaze |
|
One of all, young and scared |
|
In a nameless tale to write |
|
By my type, where do I begin |
|
Thrust into you |
|
The splinters of life |
|
Fading away, lost in your mind |
|
On Pulkovo Meridian |
|
Bleeding on you |
|
The tears of the crown |
|
Fading away, lost in your fears |
|
On Pulkovo Meridian |
|
Now, call your name, on this page |
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But no answer from the hill |
|
What's the time right to die... |
|
And wrong to live |
|
By your eyes, as you die |
|
Why so shining Leningrad |
|
Final breath, why do I begin |
|
Thrust into you |
|
The splinters of life |
|
Fading away, lost in your mind |
|
On Pulkovo Meridian |
|
Bleeding on you |
|
The tears of the crown |
|
Fading away, lost in your fears |
|
On Pulkovo Meridian |
|
Higher, higher to hill, higher to God, higher to live... |
|
Night is falling |
|
Keep defending, keep on save the children of Motherland |
|
Night is falling |
|
Keep defending, keep on save the children of Motherland |
|
In the night, in the cold |
|
Creeping shadows from my back |
|
On this type, hit the page |
|
And feel the blaze |
|
From my soul, to my hands |
|
In a nameless tale to write |
