Sergey Golos Drugogo - Hop-Hop

Through the night and neighborhoods where the lights have gone out
I walk along the edge, no one seeks happiness here
On my back is no backpack, no knapsack with food
There lies I am, singing softly
Mom sends letters, be careful son
Only in this ghetto do we have our own profit
Mailmen don't come here out of habit
Here at every door there are different master keys