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... |