I will sing you my song, my love, to the symphony of the enemies Kalashnikov
My song smells not of flower, but of burnt flesh and gunpowder,
My song is red with the blood of my father,
My song is somber at the death of my brother.
My song has no words, just the silence of a landmine,
If you can hold on through this night, I promise you tomorrow will be fine.
Till then, let me sing you my song, my love, to the symphony of the enemies Kalashnikov
My song smells not of flower, but of burnt flesh and gunpowder,
My song is red with the blood of my father,
My song is somber at the death of my brother.
My song has no words, just the silence of a landmine,
If you can hold on through this night, I promise you tomorrow will be fine.
Till then, let me sing you my song, my love, to the symphony of the enemies Kalashnikov
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