La-lara-la la

La-lara-la la-la-la

.

Your face is not unfamiliar to me,

And this building looks like the one in my town.

Instead of a garland there’s a barbed wire,

And they tell us there’s nothing behind the fence.

.

Windows are shut and I’m wearing one hood over another

Who’s on the streets other than cold?

The tank is parked just on the entry.

It’s not working, but stays there as a deterrent.

.

I’m like an alien to my closest family,

But I’m not afraid and I’m not lying to myself.

My body is in scars, and my hand is in dirt,

I’m seeking for my home and my roots just like you.

.

I’m like an alien to my closest family,

But I’m not afraid and I’m not lying to myself.

My heart is in pain, my eyes are in tears,

But I won’t look back.

.

This air grows suffocating with years.

I don’t want to kill people!

These guests come without an invitation:

New morals and new laws.

.

La-lara-la la

La-lara-la la-la-la

.

Your face is not unfamiliar to me,

And this building looks like the one in my town.

Instead of a garland there’s a barbed wire,

And they tell us there’s nothing behind the fence.

.

Windows are shut and I’m wearing one hood over another.

Who’s on the streets other than cold?

The tank is parked just on the entry.

It’s not working, but stays there as a deterrent.

It’s a russian band that was named foreign agents and moved to Poland after the invasion. In that song they created three years ago I see them predicting the absurdity of that fucking invasion. Familiar faces, familiar neighborhoods just like those I have in my city - all leveled down for nothing but vile, inbred hatred. All in a soviet fashion we’ve already seen in Grozny. If there’s something I can thank this war for, it’s that I can clearly see who is worth my attention and who are sluts for the regime. Let these tools burn in hell.