| I don't have enough lighthouses
|
| In order not to crash into a storm
|
| We eat up there, we eat up the blood
|
| All my insides are like the bottom
|
| I am the tastiest morsel
|
| Does he have enough teeth?
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| I don't have enough lighthouses
|
| In order not to crash into a storm
|
| We eat up there, we eat up the blood
|
| All my insides are like the bottom
|
| I am the tastiest morsel
|
| Does he have enough teeth?
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| Dead as your god...
|
| Depression in prose, my fingers are like badges of distinction
|
| I write music at night
|
| Where their swimmers won't see me
|
| I know how hard it is to be
|
| Whom they look closely and through the lenses
|
| This is only lyrics, because the sea does not tolerate
|
| Cowardly discoveries
|
| The depth brings me down to the Kraken again
|
| It's so dark for me, because you can't light a torch here
|
| The fish looks wonderful, but the bright beam is like a yoke
|
| Gives out the mouth of the beast, the Mariana Trench
|
| False octopuses hid behind a stone, snake grin
|
| Alas, the bathyscaphe will not save my bones,
|
| But who said that I need to be saved here?
|
| I don't have enough lighthouses
|
| In order not to crash into a storm
|
| We eat up there, we eat up the blood
|
| All my insides are like the bottom
|
| I am the tastiest morsel
|
| Does he have enough teeth?
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| I don't have enough lighthouses
|
| In order not to crash into a storm
|
| We eat up there, we eat up the blood
|
| All my insides are like the bottom
|
| I am the tastiest morsel
|
| Does he have enough teeth?
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| After all, I'm dead like your god
|
| Dead as your god... |