You can never get used to the silence
At war, at war, at war
Silence is only a lie, just a lie
On a twisted path
In a stranger's land
We set out for a caravan
A caravan is the joy of victory and the pain of loss,
Caravan, I'm waiting to encounter you again
Caravan, and Afghanistan turns rosy with blood
Caravan, Caravan, Caravan
You can never get used to a civvie life
Over there, it's all clear, there's a friend and a foe
But here, it's hard to see the souls of people
Through the fog
Such a pity he's not here any more,
The good friend of mine,
He was taken by the caravan for good
The caravan is a flask of water
And without it, you're dead
The caravan, it means you CAN
The caravan - killing the "shuravi" is ordained by the Quaran
Caravan, Caravan, Caravan
You can never get used to not having your shoulder
Weighed down by the AKM
To roadside bushes not being mined,
There are no mujahidin gangs here
But somewhere over there,
In my footsteps,
Someone's storming the caravan again.
The caravan is hundreds of shells
That never hit their target
The caravan is salt on your face
The caravan. The third toast will be silence...
For some sink, some swim.
Caravan, caravan, caravan.