Пост-пост [Post-post] [English translation]

That’s it?

Students were kissing, tulips were blooming,

Birds were tweeting here and there,

I got my documents back, had a fight with the dean,

Mom, I’m done with the institute.

I was told to do so by Slava,

My good friend.

Suitcase packed, railway station, train, Moscow – Yekaterinburg.

The forgotten girl is wandering somewhere in the city,

With no Facebook account, no diploma and no passport.

The state, beware; rulers, be sad; my parents, forgive me…

And the forgotten girl is shining from happiness,

She’s a useless link, the dead-end twig.

I’m no slave to the system for you; the line, oh, kiss my blue blue hair!

Cola hissing, birches’ leaves rustling,

Rap and minuet are in style,

Sartre is not serious at all,

No more modernism.

The cigarette labels

Didn’t lie about neurosis, and

I’m all like post-post,

I’m all like meta-meta!

I’m all like post-post,

I’m all like meta-meta!

Roses are blooming,

You meanies, why are you

Returning my school certificate?

You’d better give me back my youth,

You’d better give me back my tears,

Let the papers just lie somewhere.

Let them fly all over the table,

Let them remind you about me.

I’m leaving the pile of merits

And a dent in the wall.

I’ll find a one room flat,

Get tattoos,

And leave for Saint-Petersburg.

I’ll get a job in the music industry,

And the envy of my grandma’s friends

Will burst into flames.

I was told to do so by Slava,

My good friend.

Suitcase packed, railway station, train, Moscow – …

Cola hissing, birches’ leaves rustling,

Rap and minuet are in style,

Sartre is not serious at all,

No more modernism.

The cigarette labels

Didn’t lie about neurosis, and

I’m all like post-post,

I’m all like meta-meta!

I’m all like post-post,

I’m all like meta-meta!

…and I haven’t come up with an ending yet.