Текст песни Пустые улицы и коробок спичек. - Девять Кругов Ада.

Like a bullet in slow motion,
The length in the course of life,
Breaks sacred film,
Souls who will not return.

And the flying fragments of words
And his hands were falling apart at the seams,
Blurring the scarlet blood,
Which slowly crawled on his hands.

His eyes glazed over,
Lips in a meaningless smile,
Immediately everything around mertveli,
In anticipation of a painful torture.

Like a bullet pierced the head,
And in slow frame out hope
After the body so still young,
And now the soul somewhere in between.

The penalty for not having been made,
Who became a fiery hail,
And my body is now wanders pale,
In the nine circles of hell blazing.