Текст песни RoxA - Сорок ракет

there is a war in Donbass, my head hurts
when it's all over you will never understand
was not in the trenches, but still very sad
Want to try?
Mmmmm .. the taste of gunpowder is not tasty at all
Forty rockets in the city, forty holes
forty wins, forty funnels

where the hand is, the head lies
torn off parts can never be identified
bloody mess happens on the field
tell me! how much more blood will be shed ...
It doesn't matter what flag your city is under
just think to whose families the grief is brought
those mountains that razed the shells
covering them with the same hail
it is simply impossible to write briefly here
and not remember those mass graves under the goosebumps of tanks
there everyone is trying to dig a hole for the enemy
and whose mother sits and wipes away a tear
everything will end and God's judgment will come
but for now, only burnt bodies carry