Текст песни Demetra - Создатель

Create in the image and likeness? Oh, I already heard it once.

I heard, I saw, I know. Even aware.

I remember those who called themselves people. Miserable creatures. But such different ... someone had a mind, someone dictated the path of the heart. And someone was koryutn, Zhaden to power and glory. But…

Oh yes, there is one "but". Everyone has a soul. Whatever the damage did not eat a person, he always remained himself, albeit somewhere there, on the backyards of consciousness.

Almost every of their number appreciated the life of his own above all, but because of the broken heart, they could step into oblivion without fear, do not hesitate. It was fun to see such. Know and remember.

Oh yes, I remember. I ... I'm the same. Nearly. Does man?

I do not remember. My soul is old and thin, barely holds in the body of the physical, under the cargo is experienced. But the memory and longevity is the harder for me eternal, for all things mine. And therefore, I'm doing now. From boredom and hopelessness. To entertain yourself at least a little to find meaning on a brief moment. After all, in order to impose hands on yourself, I can never get courage and audacity. Courage to meet with darkness, enveloping and empty as non-existence, and keenness ... to look in the eyes of all those who leave.

So ... clay is lying, stinging hands. Redhead, with an admixture of sand and lake Tina a bit. She is wet, even too, smears hands and slipping out of my elderly chain, knocked out from arthritis of fingers.

In the image and likeness to your own, say?

It is impossible, oh, it is impossible. Let them be with flaws. Let there be a symborant and miserable, let them be self-believed freaks that do not know the love and tenderness who know how to kill. Who is not important. Friend, prey, those who want to kill them.

And the greatest virtue will make greed. Let them save, protect, holly and cherish their jewels, which in fact is nothing. A handful of sparkling pebbles.

By putting a lust in them, I will make the stock edge more than necessary. So that the children were a barrier coin, a reflection of the uncomplying dream of their parents, so that the children suffered and became copies of those who spawned them. Let them rape, humiliate, kill, forcing each other to pierce from pain and disgust.

Gordini give them with interest to pass past the old men in need of a crust of bread. To forget their own parents to hate those who are lower than them by status, forgotten incommary friends ...

And some, very, very few, I will give love and compassion. So that they suffer more than all surrounded by this.

Create by image and similarity? Why, if you want to stop in the creators?

Much easier than children to create embankment to patronize them and amusing, watching their smoking.

Like flies in the mud, by God. A, well, yes. Pun.

Although not. I'm not God. I ... I am a man. At least, in your own thoughts, it is worth recognizing.

And so ... two figures are ready - male and female. Roughly blinded, rather schematically than right.

It is worth the blow on them, inflaming the cheeks and making a deep breath before it ...

Not. And yet, no matter what, I am a person.

I am human.

A person who created these. In the image and likeness. Nearly.

I am human.

Creator. Cruise and blind artist drawing pictures, listening to music that playing a stray musician under the window. Mendar.

I…