Дмитрий — Send Bills

Three black telephones are ringing, telling for brand new disasters.
While the dollar bills are singing, praising heavy-handed masters.
Here the lawyer in a suit
asks me what I plan to do.
I just wipe my muddy boots, and I shout, "No," at you.
Every screen is flashing red.
Throw the tie into the street.
I am done with being dead, stepping out on my own feet.
Send the bills straight into hell.
Come and pick the morning berry.