Never dreamt of a nuclear shower And never scraped the flesh from skin and bone Last call for a soviet summer The last call This onslaught won't back down From fear, cold, everlasting pain: Insane, hysteria, is all that still remains inside the voices left for dead Born in black and white through government When wanting less means breaching f**in' more And trying all the while to lose the score Red plans followed by shadows Middle fingers curled back in shaking fists In Petersburg the d**h is still living In Petersburg their stories moulding myths: This must be hell 'cause sides don't count, our options out