По тексту Ю.Нестеренко - ВОВ
текст песни

And it was: four years
In the mud, in blood, in the fire of the fingers
The slaves fought for freedom,
Not knowing that they are slaves.
But by the way - knowing. Voil of shells
And the explosions of bombs are not so scary,
Like a well -aimed gaze of magicians,
The back is stolen from you.
And it was known to the soldiers,
From the house to be a torn war,
That the cities are being taken - to the dates.
And therefore - at any cost.
Did not pass before the enemy of the village,
But he lowered the obstructed gaze
Before a special captain
The brave combat major.
And generals convicted
At the end of the thirties without guilt,
And then suddenly released
The owner for the needs of the war,
Not to know, of course, it would be strange
Having even staff and headquarters,
That a slave, at a whim of a tyrant
The elevated is the same slave.
So, they know. But still,
Yourself and others not sparing,
Fought, climbed out of the skin,
Saving the leader’s ass.
Demolishing the mediocrity of defeats,
Where millions died in vain
And emerging from the environment
The execution of the Il camp shone,
Meekly endure this
Why did the dogs hate,
So that the leader Ryaba with a dry hand
Sigorishly chopped into his mustache.
Why, why, what for the sake of -
To say to be afraid aloud?
So that in half -dead Leningrad
From the obesity of Zhdanov fluff?
So that in the poor villages, who gave everything,
Women harnessed in Yarmo?
So that children are missing
Wearing traitors stigma?
Ah, if it were simple -
In that boyfriend, choose the right flag!
But no, the ideas of the Holocaust
No better than a gulag.
Those had all the same slavery,
And not a propaganda paradise.
Freedom, equality and brotherhood ...
Free work. Arbeit Macht Frei.
And the obstacles are unchanged,
What, they say, the main part
From the fighters went to the battle
Not for the Soviet power,
Like, not collective farms defended
And a bloodsucker-shoulder.
And the house, family and three birches,
Father's hand ...
But why the flood
Following the victory in that war
War with the Stalinist outfit
Not a ride around the country?
Parked in heaven cartridges,
The jubilant stake was seething
But soon - new cars
They brought them further east.
And those who led courage,
Who got up with the wall of Moscow -
Behind the wires of the Gulag
They did not dare to raise their heads.
Victory ... did the case - in the stall!
Freedom ... Northern Dahl.
Forty -degree swilled
From copper copper medal.
When would they really have a parade
Liberators passed
Then in the mud with swastikas nearby
And the stars B Red lay down.
Let you not break the butt with a whip,
However, the army is not a whip!
Back half a hundred
The bloody regime could have expired.
And all the end came the prohibitions,
But, the same slogans screaming,
A decrepit slave with a portrait weaves
The same highlander-priest.
He is terribly dissatisfied with the formation,
Tricolor flag and coat of arms ...
The slave can also be a hero
But everything will remain a slave.
And what are we celebrating for the sake of
They are all ninth?
He won who gained freedom.
Well, Deutchland - found it.
And freedom only teases us,
And we are prisoner in prisoner ...
On our street is not a holiday.
We lost that war.