(S.Zaderij)

I am an envoy of the masses,
Of every color, creed, and class is.
Who's in charge? It's hard to say,
But I know one thing for sure today:


Politics is a dangerous game,
A power struggle with no shame.
Red tanks, Star Wars, strategic gain,
It's the people who suffer the pain.


I say “Hello” to the participants of Congress of Dread


Bookworms and desk rats crawl
While steppe wolves and watchdogs howl
At the sight of red gleams and war's dread
As dragons of conflict raise their fiery head


To say “Hello” to all participants of Congress of Dread


Only time dances the dance of the broken lines,
Hi-Grunts sip their tea, praising external strifes
Trying to wrap people's love as a global excess.
Better sex than Int(ernational)-Ex(cess)
Better sex than Int(ernational)-Ex(cess)


I say “Hello” to the participants of Congress of Dread

(S.Zaderij)

White streaks on the asphalt's leather after-rain-jacket
We emerged from the concrete stronghold
And up in the sky, a massive pig floats by

"Hey! Radiant brothers, tighten your bows!
Drop into my hands the apple cheese divine!
Behold: spring enters the city like a commanding general"
But who the hell are you in front of bizzare?


You've got a wife, she owns the man,
Somebody fresses on humans for fun in vain.
Representation of a milita chest:
Range of regimentals for the rest.
While they decide what to do and what for,
This humbled pet has stopped being sore.


Conceptual people
Conceptual dreams
Conceptual people
Waiting for the global spring!


Red brigades of outrageous guys
Winding the globe of global minds,
They fire their own flag
Saying: "That what is Anarchy! Screw those who "non-""
While somebody wasting time on his own
With the commertial of hog-throwing pearls.


Conceptual people
Conceptual dreams
Conceptual people
Waiting for the global spring!


White streaks on the asphalt's leather after-rain-jacket
We emerged from the concrete stronghold
And up in the sky, a massive pig floats by

"Hey! Drummer, hit it across!
Carve the sparks out of it
Until the primitive female moon
Starts a dead blue dance in the sky

(K.Kinchev)

Cat wants to sleep
All the evening she walked by the roof
Cat wants to sleep
But mices are wriggling destroying the mood
Cat wants to sleep
She already sick of garbage bins and junkyards
Cat wants to sleep
But radio constantly tells that it's going to reconfigurate
Cat just wants to sleep


Cat wants to sleep
She's exhausted by all of theese suitors.?
Cat wants to sleep
Eventually, there should be a sense of moderation, shouldn't it?
Cat wants to sleep
There's a big barking mess between pig and the goose
Cat wants to sleep
Hey, just leave that cat alone
Last night, two black dogs bothered her way through the night.
Cat wants to sleep
Don't push her to a fight.
Cat just wants to sleep


There's a goat shits over the place
It ate too many carrot
Cat wants to sleep
She shared her love so generously
Behind the wall, a drunk rooster is crowing about something related the river.
The cat wants to sleep
But the sleeping right belongs to human beings.


There's a cluckage on the phone line about the food
Cat wants to sleep
Cause in the evening, she needs to be in good shape
In the evening, she has to be well-rated
The cat
The cat just wants to sleep

(A. Bashlachev)
Glistening moisture in our eyes,
All the neighbors simply hate us.
But we don't care about them,
You have me, and I have a couch-bed.

Platinum dresses, leaden pants,
They suffocate only those who don't risk breathing.
But for us, it's so easy, we finally
Shed everything that could hinder us.

We remain alone,
Quietly extinguishing the lights,
And never get bored.
And let the neighbor forgive us
For the constant ringing sound
Of a teaspoon in a cup of tea.

You say that I'm so good...
It's because of you're so good with me.
Look, my poor hedgehog
Shaved off its spines, became completely tame.

But if you feel an accidental sting,
Pull out the splinter, break its edges.
It's because my icebreaker
Isn't accustomed to the water of a spring stream.

You never sleep.
And I never sleep.

Outside, there's snow and silence...
We can make love on one of the white rooftops.
But if we stand up to our full height,
We can do it on one of the stars.

In vain, we forget the taste of tears.
But the sky smells like the scent of your hair.
And I can't manage to calm down the mercury,
But if you want, I'll sing something.

You say I sing poorly.
Apparently, that's what's needed.
You know, I don't lie in these songs.
Apparently, I can't.

Glistening moisture in our eyes,
All the neighbors simply hate us.
But we don't care about them,
You have me, and I have grass.

You never sleep, I never sleep,
Probably,
I love you.

(S.Zaderij)

He doesn't care about Christ's crucified body,
Or about his decaying wounds.
"If he was crucified, then it was reason for that,
If they tied him up, then they knew what to do."

He was there by himself, hammering nails into him,
And all you shouted, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!"


Look at your hands, that's the hands of a bureaucrat.

He sits in his fat like it is his own flat,
He keeps all good-thinkers like aims in closet,
He cuts off children's wings and their legs,
Wishing them best jorney they ever had.

Red-hot nails in a five-pointed star,
Nervous hands on an iron bridle,
Devil-machine, total mechanism,
Servants in handcuffs... ism-ism-ism!

Deny, refuse, write it off,
Move without moving, flip through without looking,
Certificate for certificate, stamp upon stamp,
And where's the recommendation for the Mother Mary?!

This is the bureaucrat's march!
He answers me with a sarcastic calculation:
"We used to talk with guys like you with hand guns in the thirties.
And after, all you pricks just proved one simple thing to world:
Complain if you can, I'll put your paper in in right queue"

Give me something more revolutionary, please,
And don't forget that we are artists-in-law.
We will soon built reserations for strolls,
It's still hard to argue with a loudspeaker after all.

Deny, refuse, write it off,
Move without moving, flip through without looking,
Certificate for certificate, stamp upon stamp,
And where's the recommendation for the Mother Mary?!

This is the bureaucrat's march!

Mighty conveyor of stamped frames,
Where every brain will find its own cap,
Ideas of limits and everything counted,
Isn't it a great order or absolute fist?

Here gears teeths fit together,
There are no sparks here and everything greased.
Here, each appendage of a specific circle,
Unable to think about anything else.

We swiftly erase square frames,
The crowd is indifferent: "Order is an order"
Just leave us the right to rule failures,
We do our job, and we always will

This is the bureaucrat's march!
Look at your hands, that's the hands of a bureaucrat.

(S.Zaderij)
I sit in a cozy armchair, catching a spy,
Scanning through books and pictures with my eyes.
In this strange world, there are millions of spies,
Their boots appear here and there as a disguise.

Now I know exactly what an agent looks like,
And every suspicious, hostile element in sight.
They wear black leather, their faces camouflaged,
Their pockets full of virus vials next to the laser guns

Tonight, our club will host another round of dances,
There would sound some songs out of foreign radio stations.
"All these "rock" and "boogie" stuff should be completely shutted up,
It distructs you outta work and me outta my sleep shack
I only tolerate the balalaika and bayan's sound
Leontiev, Kobzon and other crap Babadzhanyan-like"

There's a window across where a female spy resides,
She recruited a young arab boy, standing by her side.
At eleven fifteen p.m., she goes to bed,
With binoculars in hand, I'll find what's on her mind.
Forgot about concealment, she leaves her lights on,
I have to understand where she keeps the gun.

But suddenly, a spy was caught, he's in my bed,
Disguised as my wife, Kate, literally instead.
He shed his skin, applied makeup to his face,
Надел изящно платье, и звал меня в объятья,
Donned an elegant dress, and invited me to embrace.

But I won't be deceived
I know he is a spy,

(S.Zaderij)

You speak about Perestroyka, well, we all desire of changes
We have a leader of the new order and we despise that pack of walls,
At the demonstration, with a shout of "Hurray!", energy bursts from our mouths,
I still remember those times when we futilely bashed our heads against the red walls.

Everything would become as we make it!

You speak about new world, well, for very long timee we prepared for the war
With the authoritative stroke of grand resolutions, In the name of the great Juche idea,
But resolutions give birth to revolutions, and revolutions cause situations,
Situations tarnish reputations, Hey you, walking deads - get off!

Everything would become as we make it!

We set out to meet the sun, but the atmosphere melts our wax.
To transform consciousness itself, mind has to restructure its own brain.
And then no cops can hold us back. This is my perestroyka, and I'm making it happen,
Like eaglets learning to fly!

Everything would become as we make it!

Everything would be great

(S.Zaderij)
This city is leashed with strict collar by the throat,
Every law is entanglement, is corral.
When people in iron cages are singing about freedom
It sounds more like harrowing moan
Take away your filthy hands of those kids
They are still as pure as a tear.
We need a cozy dictatorship of understanding,
Or else there will be storm and lightnings will burn out your guts!

For how many years have they been pouring liquid filth
Into your consciousness, through the television screen?!
Here are the results of their work:
One of my friends is an alcoholic, another is a drug addict.

This city is stucked in "Stop" state!

If everyone is running but nobody escapes,
If everyone is flying but nobody takes off,
If everything is moving and yet not moving,
If a song is heard but not really heard,

*If everybody is horny but nobody is able to cum*

This city is stucked in "Stop" state!

Fans of the iron claw time,
Thieves who'd be in jail by the age of forty
Falcons and crowns from black coroner vans,
Witch hunters abd black cats haters
Dance teachers teaching how to dance on corpse,
Satisfied pigs and dung diggers,
A killer with a knitting needle, a soldier with a rifle,
Books that spit curses straight to readers minds,

Those who sing only when part of flock
They fired shining screw into the sky,
Burnt-out forms and empty crosses,
Endless carriages of lies

This city is stucked in "Stop" state!