Down by the Volga walks the lonely Boatsman Towing on his back that celestial plain From the heavens above, the Lord shows his hand But the Boatsman simply laughs - the hand contains cocaine. And down the Volga - memories of the Golden Horde And up the Volga - damsels transfixed on the shore Such Kozelsky brew, such a waterly flood Oh pale blue snow, freeze my blood to the core. How the winter simply calmed us with it's iron and ice Pacified us, the quietly turned into spring When the snow starts to melt - oh what that shall entice When the ice starts to brea - oh how I shall sing. Is this just Volga or Biblical Flood? Or simply a lord and the traces he sweeps? But I couldn't care less, I'm lamost ready, my love I am ready to sing to you out from the deep And from the dark of the deep, oh how the bells sing >From behind the old wall comes Chizh to be believed Oh forgive me my sins with thw wave of you wing Oh forgive me my sins - say something, please! So burn Seraphim golden winged-pomp Burn and fear nor your own guiding star I couldn't care less, I've misplaced the bit to chomp I have no other part - just whenever you are. So, here's our whole life: either secam or pal Either full collapse or the Savior will dote Going outside to find the start of it all Got drunk and fell down - and that's all she wrote The ravens are silent, it's the women who scream With a howl from the boondocks or some sisterly love Either the Saving Fast or some saving poison Don't you hear my knock - please, open the door! So, count us with the angels or among the boar But please don't mute, I can't make it without fire Whenever I may roam I keep knocking at the door But oh my Lord above, have mercy on me, Sire.