Back when I was young and crazy, as they say, But sure, I worked pretty hard, yeah. Stole some money from my mom, and I hit the road to Leningrad. I get stopped on the next train stop, in the middle of rural Ukraine. This is how it's all begun, And I will tell this story of a true rebellion. Hoya hoya hoya Moya paranoia. (enough paranoia.) Maybe I'm a man who is propelled, Spinning circles of his doom. Or maybe I'm just paranoid, placed by the lord in this room. And a bottle will always be my cover. All of your eyebrows, will you please untie. And if there's any room for a Roma, What else is there left to romanticize? Hoya, hoya, hoya moya paranoia This is only when I'm drunk, Or do I see things any clearly? It's just like when one is dyslexic. Whatever, I will stay discivil! Hoya hoya hoya Moya paranoia. No ti dura. (you're a dumb broad.)
https://primoaccordo.net/gogol-bordello/nomadic-chronicle.htm