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 f**in' 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 d**h is still living
In Petersburg their stories moulding myths:
This must be hell 'cause sides don't count, our options out