Hey Jove

Mother, mother, the tundra's at the door
and I have fire in my veins
My bitter hands that shake my shkalik'll
soon be counting out my gains
I've fire running in my veins tonight

Hey, hey, hey Jove!
Who you running from
Who you running from, Jove?
The past is buried, is gone,
and the sparks are sown
Soon I'll be my own god

Good news is on the streets outside
The moon carves up the black bread sky
Oh boys, let's drink to years ahead
as bright as that moon - and the fields of rye
will rise up and murder the sky tonight

Hey, hey, hey Jove!
Who you running from
Who you running from, Jove?
The past is buried, is gone,
and the sparks are sown
Soon I'll be my own god

Come shattering the gowns in ballrooms
The crystal decanters of rowanberry vodka
Cossack captain wrapped in smokefumes
Who's gonna pay him now, eh?
Break out the barrels, boys!
We're going to Moscow!