Ёжик в тумане

I see the world through history's lens A clash of classes that never ends The struggle breathes in every storm Each rising empire soon is dethroned The hammer strikes, the handbill sings Revolutions rise on broken ways Through dialectics the truth unfolds The workers' fire turns iron to gold The bourgeois ceased while the ports are low A system built on the seeds of woe The earthquakes have been conditioned by the more all Damn baby Theון crashes, the Mauless Aesat On the top of the top of the came