| Laughter, noise, the sound of a horse's hooves
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| Third day of celebration at the fairground
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| Noise, the sound of a horse's hooves
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| The third day is a holiday, a holiday ...
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| Laughter, noise, the sound of a horse's hooves
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| Third day of celebration at the fairground
|
| People mixed up in a crazy mix
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| They are the masters of desires here
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| Laughter, noise, the sound of a horse's hooves
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| Third day of celebration at the fairground
|
| People mixed up in a crazy mix
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| They are the masters of desires here
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| The invisible hands of the master pull the threads
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| Bringing the puppets to life, gathering spectators
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| Closer to the stage, instead of which the chest is round
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| Under a layer of dust, signs, or letters, are barely visible
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| The face hides the hood, they say he is swarthy
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| They poke a finger. |
| Like a foreigner
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| From there - from the south. |
| Maybe Caucasian
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| Although people did not often get to these places
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| Soon the week will be like the waters of the north
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| They brought his ship to our shallows
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| Skillful, barely noticeable movements
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| He conveys feelings to puppets without tension
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| Around delight, excitement, fear -
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| Everything is in his hands!
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| Oh my God! |
| The dolls seemed to come to life by someone's will
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| Each has a voice, according to its role
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| Male, female, kind, flattering |
| Sounds so natural!
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| Close circles surrounded this action
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| Local gentlemen look with amazement
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| Where the puppet faces flicker
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| Someone seems familiar, as if
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| Coins fly into an old chest
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| Only bursts of laughter reach the master
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| The noise of applause
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| From swear words with palms close the ears of children
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| Noise, the sound of a horse's hooves
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| Third day of celebration at the fairground
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| People mixed up in a crazy mix
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| They are the masters of desires here
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| Slow recitative with a lyrical motif
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| I pronounce an ancient spell
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| I instill a soul into a doll that blindly follows any orders
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| Consequence of magical knowledge
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| Stolen from sources of secret occult scripture
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| The thief is caught and will hang chained on a leash
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| In the hands of the law
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| With deadly ritual punishment -
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| Creation of appearance
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| I keep similarity without difference
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| With those who already rest in the dead bed
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| Honoring him with propriety
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| I imprisoned my soul in the form of a puppet
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| Like a bird in a cage
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| Now my submissive kids play in different genres
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| Accurate Encore Artists
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| Tragedians, comedians, comedians |
| Under the pressure of the movements of the brush
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| Hidden from prying eyes
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| They drive an audience like them into ecstasy
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| Acting flaunting all the baseness and dirt
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| During the presentation
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| Every time a crazy pandemonium
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| Dressed in a black hoodie
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| I pierce from under my brows with insight
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| The gaze of the spectators standing nearby
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| Watching my performance with mockery
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| And now they are, as always, arrogant
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| Proud, too important
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| Dissolute girls are smeared with a pleasant incense
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| I see everyone hanging by strings
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| Beyond the main assembly is
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| Still quite a boy
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| There is an excess of confidence on the face -
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| Just the prince of this world
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| Plotting his dirty deeds, shining gold
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| Visual generosity of relatives in relation to the son
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| I came up with the children's role of a fairy tale warlock
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| At the end, the good king defeats this predator
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| And here in my hand is a new plastic doll
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| feigned grimace
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| A green piece of paper sticks out of her pocket
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| Take a look at the copy of yesterday's poor thing
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| What is happening makes me wonder
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| Around enthusiastic exclamations
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| Identical images do not arouse suspicion among viewers |
| The expressions on their faces do not change
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| In the other hand, a nondescript figure appears
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| The dolls move according to the scenario
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| The blade flashes, the knife cuts the throat
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| A papier-mâché character remains alive
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| I hear how cats scratch in my soul
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| To the disturbing accompaniment
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| A romantic plot is sung on the stage
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| An epigraph to him in the headlines of the morning newspapers
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| On stage, a detective story is in full swing
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| Changing to comedy, it reaches the extreme
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| The intoxicated crowd echoes the actors with cries
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| Obscene no worse than in the market
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| Two puppets in the spotlight
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| Kind of like in an office, with different ranks
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| One in civilian clothes - you see, the boss
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| Another, in the form of a cop, receives knowledge
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| "I `m sick of you!" |
| - yelling at the young
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| Gives him a kick without stopping so deftly
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| The crowd shouts: "Give it to him!"
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| Ready for a brawl right here
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| “You haven’t dealt with a new case of missing people for a week already
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| No leads, parasites!”
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| Reinforcing his word with a slap in the face:
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| “You shouldn’t catch criminals, but play with dolls!”
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| Look, they are even sick of laughter
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| Clap their own hands |
| And you can laugh at yourself, right?
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| I'll take you to tomorrow's performance
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| Laughter, noise, the sound of a horse's hooves
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| Third day of celebration at the fairground
|
| People mixed up in a crazy mix
|
| They are the masters of desires here
|
| Laughter, noise, the sound of a horse's hooves
|
| Third day of celebration at the fairground
|
| People mixed up in a crazy mix
|
| They are the masters of desires here |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Кукловод , by - Каста.