| Just like a Russian river
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| You’re so hard to forget
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| Didn’t think anyone, anyone remembered
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| And to tell the truth I have no regrets.
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| I went out looking for adventure
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| Oh! |
| Whatever, whatever could be found
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| Bound by my inheritance
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| To be buried in sacred ground.
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| On the outskirts of Moscow
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| The army turned back
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| Caught up in their destiny
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| By a thousand, a thousand tank-traps.
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| Oh, I put on my uniform
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| I put on my tank-top
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| There’s nothing much that’s been remembered
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| And there’s even less that’s been forgot.
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| You could say that I lost my soul
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| To the Baron’s daughter over twenty years ago
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| An' I asked about her recently
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| I was told she paints pictures in her French home.
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| Who pays for your paintbrushes, honey?
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| Who pays for all, all the paints you use?
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| Yea, who, who buys your canvases
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| And the things that keep you amused?
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| Yea, just like that Russian river
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| You’re so hard, so hard to forget
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| And on the edge of Moscow
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| Yea, to tell the truth, darling, I have no regrets.
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| Who pays for your paintbrushes, honey?
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| Who keeps you warm on nights like these?
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| Who pays for all the paints you paint with?
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| Who keeps you safe from disease? |