ПАЦАНЫ/BOYS
Acoustic melodic folk rock haevy metal ballads. A single acoustic guitar plays a rhythmic strumming pattern with a percussive backbeat created by hitting the guitar body. The guitar uses a standard tuning and a bright, steel-string timbre. A baritone male vocal performs with a gritty, emotive delivery. The tempo is 112 BPM in 4/4 time. The arrangement is sparse, focusing entirely on the interplay between the rhythmic acoustic guitar and the vocal melody. The guitar pattern features frequent palm muting and accented upstrums.
ПАЦАНЫ/BOYS
Acoustic melodic folk rock haevy metal ballads. A single acoustic guitar plays a rhythmic strumming pattern with a percussive backbeat created by hitting the guitar body. The guitar uses a standard tuning and a bright, steel-string timbre. A baritone male vocal performs with a gritty, emotive delivery. The tempo is 112 BPM in 4/4 time. The arrangement is sparse, focusing entirely on the interplay between the rhythmic acoustic guitar and the vocal melody. The guitar pattern features frequent palm muting and accented upstrums.
Lyrics
Translation of the text into English below
[Verse]
Эй товарищ, давай закурим по одной.
Давай споём нашу песню, о родных и о доме.
Жизнь и смерть, столкновение душ, и лишь вой,
Голодных псов, тянет в бездну,весь этот мир, на изломе.
[Chorus]
Шли пацаны, строем, ровно в ногу.
В небо штыки. Выбрали дорогу.
Защищать страну свою от врагов.
Слыша приказ, шли, не отступая.
Помня наказ, отцов и дедов. стая,
Воронов кружит.
Над полем боя, дым от костров..
[Verse]
Мы своих не бросаем,
Под пулями дней.
Победа будет за нами,
Так было всегда.
Пройдёт сквозь адово пламя,
И станет сильней.
Хранимый небесами,
Русский солдат.
[Chorus]
Шли пацаны, строем, ровно в ногу.
В небо штыки. Выбрали дорогу.
Защищать страну свою от врагов.
Слыша приказ, шли, не отступая.
Помня наказ, отцов и дедов. стая,
Воронов кружит.
Над полем боя, дым от костров..
[Hard rock solo]
[Chorus]
Шли пацаны, строем, ровно в ногу.
В небо штыки. Выбрали дорогу.
Защищать страну свою от врагов.
Слыша приказ, шли, не отступая.
Помня наказ, отцов и дедов. стая,
Воронов кружит.
Над полем боя, дым от костров..
[Guitar drums bridge]
[Chorus]
Шли пацаны, строем, ровно в ногу.
В небо штыки. Выбрали дорогу.
Защищать страну свою от врагов.
Слыша приказ, шли, не отступая.
Помня наказ, отцов и дедов. стая,
Воронов кружит.
Над полем боя, дым от костров..
"BOYS"
[Verse]
Hey, comrade, let's light one.
Let's sing our song, about family and home.
Life and death, a clash of souls, and only the howl,
Hungry dogs, drawn into the abyss, this whole world, at breaking point.
[Chorus]
The boys marched in formation, in perfect step.
Bayonets pointed to the sky. They chose the path.
To defend their country from enemies.
Hearing the order, they marched without retreating.
Remembering the orders of their fathers and grandfathers. A flock of crows circles.
Over the battlefield, smoke from the fires...
[Verse]
We do not abandon our own,
Under the bullets of days.
Victory will be ours,
It has always been so.
It will pass through the flames of hell,
And become stronger.
Protected by heaven,
Russian soldier.
[Chorus]
The boys marched in formation, in perfect step.
Bayonets pointed to the sky. They chose the path.
To defend their country from enemies.
Hearing the order, they marched without retreating.
Remembering the instructions of their fathers and grandfathers. A flock of crows circles.
Above the battlefield, smoke from the fires...
[Hard rock solo]
[Chorus]
The boys marched in formation, in perfect step.
Bayonets pointed to the sky. They chose the path.
To defend their country from enemies.
Hearing the order, they marched without retreating.
Remembering the instructions of their fathers and grandfathers.
A flock of crows circles.
Smoke from the campfires rises above the battlefield.
[Guitar, drums bridge]
[Chorus]
The boys marched in formation, in perfect step.
Bayonets pointed to the sky. They chose the path.
To defend their country from enemies.
Hearing the order, they marched without retreating.
Remembering the orders of their fathers and grandfathers, a flock of crows circled.
Smoke from the campfires rises above the battlefield.
Все тексты, написаны мной.
При использовании, ссылка на автора, обязательна.
Автор стихов - Антон Кулëмин.