Never dreamt of a nuclear shower And never scraped the flesh from skin and bone Last call for a soviet summer The last call This onslaught won't back down From fear, cold, everlasting pain: Insane, hysteria, is all that still remains inside the voices left for dead Born in black and white through government When wanting less means breaching fuckin' more And trying all the while to lose the score Red plans followed by shadows Middle fingers curled back in shaking fists In Petersburg the death is still living In Petersburg their stories moulding myths:
This must be hell 'cause sides don't count, our options outTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
