Система [Sistema] [English translation]

From the targeted prey with an outstretched beak

Of the spent efforts, with all of their run-down wrath

A line for the sun on the ice-cold corner

I'll sit on the tires, you'll sit on a needle

After puking out the doubts, rolling up the sleeve

Not easy for a soldier among restless grass

If he were to have sight -- I would've been blind

And if only I were dead -- he would be alive

Just like that, search my body with a knotted hand,

Incarcerate me into your paralyzed rest

I am not fazed by changing places

The snitch won't expose me, the pig won't eat me

Onto the sore spot with a burning-hot seam

Onto an open wound with damp dirt

From the dear bed and into the final round

From the crazed grace and into the unde'ground

The targeted harvest's widespread gaze

Wasted illusions the late one bends

A line for the sun on the ice-cold corner

I'll sit on the tires -- you'll sit on a needle.

• Artist:Grazhdanskaya Oborona