Metox - Гриша - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

First retrial in '17 for a prison term

We were just from the central prison, and Grisha was rushing from a special porch

In the backyard near the workshops on the grass, in the summer

Lying around – talking about daily necessities, chifir, candy

We were convicted, and he was transferred to a strict regime

He's in his tenth year of twenty-five

One hundred and fifths in the amount of several, and something else there

Whether in '95 or '4

We, the greenhorns, even get along there with an accomplice

When he told us he'd hijacked a plane with a crew:

Onboard malfunctions, parachute, ejector

He'll be saved, but what about those others? - seven corpses

So convincingly, with the charisma of a GITIS actor -

I wanted to believe him, but he didn't write them out of life that way.

A Kalashnikov assault rifle - shooting, then on the run to the Tajiks.

22 years later, with us in the sewing workshop.

First, he's wanted abroad, but he won't come back.

The death penalty hadn't been abolished yet.

Then came the moratorium, followed by Borya.

Dushanbe, the bustle, the markets, seemingly a sea of ​​money.

But a decade later, I was drawn back.

Somehow, life isn't the same without our brothers.

I decided to return, despite the fact that the return would be harsh.

He explained it succinctly: "The birch trees called."

What kind of power is in the Russian land, which God has instilled in us,

When you love your homeland so much that you don't give a damn about life imprisonment? To visit my mother, to cheer up my family with toasts

to hug a childhood friend, the one with whom you dreamed under the stars

Caught in the act in public, I started calling my in-laws

Surveillance. Reception. Solitary confinement. Period

Of course, they set the ceiling - a quarter

10 special sentences plus 15 strict terms. Yelets krytka, Nizhny Novgorod zone

He came to us - the sky was clear - a miracle, like freedom

When ten in a row, and camp seems like freedom

I'm glad that chance brought us together, even if it was just this way

We had a blast, he sewed Sanka and me sweatshirts

He could make such shoes that Nikes would go to hell

Freundlich and Raikin were held in high esteem, anecdotes and tales

He was always with him, no matter how hard the cops tightened the screws

Even with such a long sentence, he managed to arrange dates for himself

Feminine warmth, phone calls, packages, gifts

We bring fish from the canteen so we can make cutlets with him

Then nettle soup, culinary secrets

He's always making something, cooking something, talking nonstop

Still squatting, entertaining the angry crowd

Where does all this life come from when fifteen is ahead? And you're already fifty, the word is too mild, it's hard.

We're free, we're depressed by the gloomy clouds.

Yes, from the bosses at work, from whores and assholes.

And he'll start singing "Murochka," dancing to the rhythm.

This is truly powerful, well, truly beautiful.

We've already freed ourselves, on a rare phone call.

He says he saw music videos, heard some rap.

The year is 2022, the fuss has begun.

Prigozhin, helicopters, conscription, PMCs.

At first, he kept working and working.

Then either he quit on his own, or they fired him for something.

Apparently, he got sad and wanted to go to the front.

But they wouldn't take him because of his age, and the sentence was still long.

Somehow, after a year, they came to an agreement and formalized his employment.

He called, they helped, asking, "Is everything okay?" They're gathering us for transport, right where the cauldron is.

There's still no news - some are trying to find out, some are looking.

The boys were already returning - some were met with a bathhouse.

Some were just saying "hi," some were seen by chance.

And then a message arrives with a photo from Vanka.

Grishanya, a cross, some earth, and ribbons on a wreath.