Dubrovlag

Black rusted trains
From Pot'ma
Crawl the Takushevo line
Sub zero winds
A frost of white
Mordovia's bright sun palling

Dubrovlag
Death before
Dubrovlag

Piled corpses
At the gate
Hammered skulls
Ensures they're dead

Stripped and beaten
Upon the ice
Naked blackened frozen limbs
Bodies twisted smashed and bent
Scattered upon the permafrost

Dubrovlag
Death before
Dubrovlag

Grind that glass
Into your eyes
Cut and eat
Of your own flesh

Mind-death
Silent isolation
Psychiatric experimentation

Gnaw at stone
Writhe with pain
Work till death
In this abyss

Those rusted trains
From Pot'ma
Grinding down
A thin gauge line
Deep into the northern forests
Those were Mordovia's blackest nights

Dubrovlag
Death before
Dubrovlag

No graves were dug
The ground was ice
For human flesh
Beasts would fight

Hang yourself
Cut your veins

Death before
Dubrovlag