Sergey Golos Drugogo - Hop-Hop

Hop hop hop hop-hop
Hop hop hop
Through the nighttime neighborhoods where the lights have gone out
I walk along the edge no one seeks happiness here
On my back is no backpack no knapsack with food
There lies iron singing softly
Mom sent letters Be careful son
Only in this ghetto do we have our own prophet
Mailmen don't come here out of habit