Текст песни
We’re not just writing these lines in vain
Hear, reader, feel, understand the pain
For truth is hidden in each single verse
Copy, learn, then tear it apart—rehearse
I’ve read that in Russia you can be jailed for poems
While for theft and lies, they ignore these homes
We’re so ashamed of our motherland’s face
Turn around—spit in my back, I sing this disgrace
But still I’ll sing, I’ll keep on reading
Though not knowing comes easier, succeeding
Do not be afraid, don’t stay silent
Since when, who taught you to retreat—tell
What did Akhmatova and Gogol write
Why are their voices silenced, left behind
And what’s the use of your freedom of speech
When poetry itself is bound by a leash
What’s the meaning behind new songs’ words
Honestly, I find no meaning there
So bland, so dull, so uninteresting
I’d put a ban on such lyrics, I swear
Your rules are a marionette show
In stores where meat on shelves rots slow
They let their dogs out on the streets
While children play hide-and-seek—that’s your feats
This is a call to copy
The city of Pushkin, Bryusov, Klyuev
As our ancestors would say — no Stalin’s view
Peter, like a forgotten village of Cuckoo
A land of lust, daring, lies, and slander, too
Is it mentality or just decorum
Who’s to blame now, who bears the burden
Poet
Problems are many—no country’s immune
And only man is guilty of this doom
It’s not life that’s wrong — it’s just our way
And we must change the future’s sway
No matter how many sorrows life brings
Your friends will always understand your strings
Remember, each day is full of adventure
Here are those like you and me in nature
Here are ones like you and I, my friend
But believe—there’s more you can attain
We’ll write poems, let friends read aloud
And those who disagree, learn by heart—loud
We’ll keep on creating marionette ballets
After twenty, thirty, forty years on
Nothing’s changing—above, they ignore us
Maybe it’s time to jump and grow strong
Yes, each of us is somewhat an actor
Those who could helped—those who couldn’t drifted
And the album’s complete, now a blank page
Maybe operettas, maybe sonnets engage
And the moral of this little tale
Is simple yet wise to tell
All problems stem from rough human kind
Watch your words, be gentle—mind
