| Teaching does not care who believes in it there
|
| This is the ink on the sheets, and all the ink is smoldering
|
| Only people will judge you, but they will be twisted
|
| We all know what they become on a platter
|
| What you loved today, you won't remember tomorrow
|
| What you loved, they will not write even in a year
|
| Still better than a slanting sharply takes away from you
|
| Who can't be separated even by a comma
|
| The hospital stands on ten stones
|
| And no one remembers what is written
|
| But tomorrow people will be on their feet
|
| So what shall we choose: people or letters?
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh, metamorphosis
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh, metamorphosis
|
| And since the code is not a law, but fiction
|
| The treaty is my only way to get out
|
| With a fingernail there is faith for those who, scoring on impurities
|
| Bahal so much that grass will not grow on a corpse
|
| From the homeland, resentment is flying at me like:
|
| "Roma, where have you been?" |
| (ah-ah-ah-al)
|
| If only poverty united us
|
| That was not common
|
| The hospital stands on ten stones
|
| And no one remembers what is written
|
| But tomorrow people will be on their feet
|
| (Teaching doesn't give a damn who believes in it)
|
| The hospital stands on ten stones
|
| And no one remembers what is written
|
| But tomorrow people will be on their feet
|
| So what shall we choose: people or letters?
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh, metamorphosis
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh, metamorphosis
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh, metamorphosis
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh, metamorphosis |