Say what you want about my city Say what you want about my soul It is dirty it ain’t pretty Tell me something I don’t know Sometimes despair feels like religion Where empty bottles mark our graves Live long enough to be the villain Or burn out early with the saints Moskva… Moskva stands still Moskva her grip is real They only come to gaze But Moskva she’s stays unfazed Moskva Red flame burned bright but burnt out everything Her Monolithic rule remained Blind western eyes refused to see We breathe as one but still we suffocate Now hidden enemies arrive The weak and frail are up for grabs While young and arrogant survive No one is really keeping tabs Moskva… Moskva stands still Moskva her grip is real They only come to gaze But Moskva she’s stays unfazed Moskva