PRAVDA the OVERDRIVER Awaken in the mud Of the human existence She sacrifices the light Dashing on the asphalt The wind is whistling in her hear, while.... Megalopoli collapses in the lights ! As we raise our tins ! Lycanthropes are catching the moon And dancing on their inquisitor's scalps ! You can see behind the flames the stars growing pale You can feel on your mouth your blood flowing down Pravda listen to the flame's sing that devoures the neon-metropolis in a night without moon. The fluid of forgivness is flowing But her heart is too hard for the love's blade Dark is the horizon In her eyes there's the night Megalopoli collapses beetwen the lights ! As we raise our tins ! Lycanthropes are catching the moon And dancing on their inquisitor's scalps ! The last sigh echoes in the night Pravda is standing and watching the horizon Wild queen of a boundless realm Without subjects and richness, without gods and wars.