RoxA - Сорок ракет
текст песни

In the Donbass war, head hurts
when it all ends, you will never understand
I was not in the trenches, but still very sad
Want to try?
Mmmmm .. the taste of gunpowder is not at all tasty
In the city of forty missiles, forty holes
Forty victories, forty funnels

Where is the hand, the head lies
The torn parts are never identified
Bloody mess occurs on the field
Tell! how much still blood will be shed ...
It doesn’t matter under what flag you have a city
Just think in whose families the grief is brought
those mountains that equalized shells
Covering them all the same hail
It is simply impossible to write briefly here
And do not remember those mass graves under the Hussians of tanks
there everyone tries to dig a hole to the enemy
and whose mother sits and wipes a tear
Everything will end and God's court will come
In the meantime, only charred bodies carry