Say what you want about my city
Say what you want about my soul
It is dirty it ain’t pretty
Tell me something I don’t know
Sometimes despair feels like religion
Where empty bottles mark our graves
Live long enough to be the villain
Or burn out early with the saints
Moskva…
Moskva stands still
Moskva her grip is real
They only come to gaze
But Moskva she’s stays unfazed
Moskva
Red flame burned bright but burnt out everything
Her Monolithic rule remained
Blind western eyes refused to see
We breathe as one but still we suffocate
Now hidden enemies arrive
The weak and frail are up for grabs
While young and arrogant survive
No one is really keeping tabs
Moskva…
Moskva stands still
Moskva her grip is real
They only come to gaze
But Moskva she’s stays unfazed
Moskva