Колыбельная [Kolybel'naya] [English translation]

[1]

The evening is tired and exhausted,

You're tight asleep having counted all the sheep.

The city is like a toy pyramid made of rings,

Every little man in it is half crippled.

The dispatcher is silent, the voicemail is empty,

The games "will-they-won't-they" and "odds-and-evens" are not worth the candle.

Some people are convalescing or they are far away,

The others have a motto: "There's nothing to be surprised about, there's nothing to share".

While your parents are partying and wasting money,

Know that a famous writer is putting you to bed.

But you don't care about these labels,

At the moment you are impressed by a found tin soldier.

Somewhere a sleepwalker is listening to the radio,

The mayor's voice from there encourages to punish them.

It's not clear whom exactly, there are executions in the city,

Power and plutoctacy interlace in each other's arms.

[Hook]

Tired of the day we are singing

Lullabies for the dark times.

What else are we left to do?

What's the point in fighting? The power of darkness is arising from the bottom.

Sleep tight, district, we are singing

Lullabies for the dark times.

What else to do here?

It's silly to fight back: darkness, a diver and an octopus.

Tired of the day we are singing

Lullabies for the dark times.

What else are we left to do?

What's the point in fighting? The power of darkness is arising from the bottom.

[2]

Ink covers the roofs

Quietly leaking in the seams and filling the niches.

The closer the sound of a row and patrol forces,

The worse you sleep, running somewhere in your dreams, breathing faster.

There's a cold macrocosm outside the window,

Plenty of wet backs, dank smoke,

A wart of the mountain.

The ore and rockslide are underground,

Higher one finds the bunches of city blocks, gangs, drugs,

And teenagers busted by barbaric cops.

You are still little and don't have a clue,

How suspects are monitored through hundreds of cameras.

I'm not a passionary to languish in a dungeon,

But what is coming is called "a concentration camp".

I'm laying on the colours too thickly, a new fight is tomorrow.

A fight for cash, territory, control, and everyone is their own army.

There is a cruel world around you, its terrors and all the pain.

Hide your head under the blanket, sleep tight and don't be afraid of anything.

[Hook]

Tired of the day we are singing

Lullabies for the dark times.

What else are we left to do?

What's the point in fighting? The power of darkness is arising from the bottom.

Sleep tight, district, we are singing

Lullabies for the dark times.

What else to do here?

It's silly to fight back: darkness, a diver and an octopus.

• Artist:Oxxxymiron