Somewhere out there, on unknown paths... what is there? |
I've been interested since childhood
|
tormented by this question
|
Someone will be drowned there, or from blood and flesh, but ... here it will grow and is ready for
|
work
|
The smell of soot, gunpowder, sweat, whispers, rustles, darkness, gothic, Gotham.
|
Where? |
- you ask. |
It's simple, tomorrow, thousands of questions in my head.
|
What is there, how is it there?
|
If you knew, imagine, brother, because you can change everything and everyone, no longer play
|
success.
|
It’s elementary to take, live and burn, don’t give a damn about death, wherever you go, there is solid ground.
|
But invisible forces ... asked ... everyone drank, but the smoke from the fog or flooring
|
from the dust
|
And everything became gray, and we don’t see what will happen, and what we don’t see, we hate
|
people.
|
And how many lost destinies could be saved, how many anxious ones overtook
|
hysteria of everyday life
|
So whatever one may say, in order to know everything, one would have to invent something.
|
Chorus:
|
I would like to find
|
to spin it and know everything
|
Ahead, an hour, a day or a year, I would like to find a kaleidoscope.
|
I would like to find a kaleidoscope to rotate it and know everything
|
Ahead, an hour, a day or a year, I would like to find a kaleidoscope.
|
Rem Digga:
|
There is no way for me to lift the veil of years, how not to change anything so that ...
|
And if you weigh all the pros and cons, someone would definitely not accept the miracle of watching
|
calendar behind the eyes.
|
And so one water and these thoughts can kill Barak, when years
|
Iraq at once, so glad to devour the bodies to the ground, when one of these days we fly to paradise, Taro,
|
Astral is out of business.
|
This is how the dial moves the body forward, fate has intertwined in affairs, I don’t see it.
|
Life is not on guard. |
Look, she aims at the face and suddenly takes it lower,
|
looks where to pierce you.
|
There is no result on roads, factories, in wars, in hospitals on beds there are faces of the dead.
|
You can’t count everything and I myself am pleased that I exist, people are drowning in the oceans,
|
but there is no will to climb into the water.
|
I will bite my lip and put on a hood, I will become a baby again, let the wounds of the camp not count.
|
I will again walk naked on the surface of the water, they let us live, we live. |
What then?
|
God for that. |