Партизанское радио - Oxxxymiron

〈Verse 1〉
The taste of your lips
Northern tropics, jungles in the snow
Palm trees through binoculars, wearing ice helmets
You love the smell of napalm in the morning
From the huts with vines and wires
Frost garlanded on the branches
Bamboo for the fire
Mahjong on the bones
The patrol's lost
Vietcong, trap
Move, tactics, I'm running away from you
Through drifts of golden sand
But when I get out of the cauldron and the ring
I'm pulled back by a howitzer
There's not a page in Clausewitz's manual about you and me
The invaders are seducеd by aboriginal women
Knowing that the insurgents don't takе prisoners
In the hammock of the tarpaulin, a death groan
The heart is braided by winter

〈Chorus〉
I keep passing the checkpoints
Of our civil war
We'll never catch the same wave again
Guerrilla radio
A foray behind the lines
We can't part amicably
And we're retreating like waves again
Guerrilla radio
〈Verse 2〉
The snow leopard between the grass is not a Rousseau painting (No, no)
The southern cross between the blizzards will draw a clever pattern (No, no, no, no, no, no, no)
Let our tears dig trenches
Our paired neck tags, we're both targets
The stronghold
Sergeant Hartman killed, Colonel Kurtz
Ambush, poisonous foliage
Siege, you're dynamite, I'm a saboteur
Chagrin, we can't keep the alliance
Snowfall, impassable places
Sweat drips off you
Smoke from the opium pipe, it's the guard's cold
We're stuck with you for ages, don't leave, but soak up Indochina