Серебра [Serebra] [English translation]

Is it really his life: only twitching apace,

Only guarding the dreams with the hard frozen face,

Only honing his breath, always knowing his wig:

Quasimodo's a freak, Quasimodo's a freak.

Only one of us wins, these are rules of the game,

Either sound or light, either sound or bane.

Lift their eyelids so that they could clearly see

What transpires when blood's got too much of the free

Silver dust!

If he passes you by, say that you are in luck,

To wreak havoc and blight is his craft for the ruck,

Or to juggle with words and to speak tongue in cheek:

Quasimodo's a freak, Quasimodo's a freak.

But until his scream stops cutting silence in rave,

And until he lost voice while he's driving the wave,

Lift their eyelids so that they could clearly see

What transpires when blood's got too much of the free

Silver dust!

It's the same fires only they lack fiery flame,

It's the same eyes but now to the tree stumps they pray,

It's the same words that're only spelled backwards. Now speak:

Quasimodo's a freak, Quasimodo's a freak.

Only one of us wins, these are rules of the game,

Either sound or light, either sound or bane.

Lift their eyelids so that they could clearly see

What transpires when blood's got too much of the free

Silver dust!

• Artist:Piknik (Russia)
• Album:Govorit i pokazyvaet (Говорит и показывает)