Lyrics Янка Дягелева - Особый резон

On the distorted mouths,
Weathered moles of moles
You see a germ error
By myopic eyes,
Not believing stupid tears,
The sand conveyor creeps

Until the hand remembers
The brass knuckles at the temple,
Calling the oblique board
I'm at the door
Under the heel of the ceiling

At the entrance was an egg
Or cool word,
I turn my face.
A nightmare twitched,
Newborn Mason
Sings with me in unison.

Winged wind in the distance
Tops of rocks scorched
And here caresses the lawn
On that special reason.
At that special department
On that special regime
On that special reason

Convoy penetrated into the cracks
Seal the windows with grass,
We will be led to slaughter
The hero will cross himself,
Shaghnet in the expanded system
Forward for the Motherland in battle

And the evil enemies will perish
Who did not put on his boots,
Who did not say goodbye to himself
Who did not commit suicide?
All will be led to slaughter

At that special department
On that special regime
On that special reason