I do not know when he will die this world
He procuration and burnt through to the holes
Everything merged in it - today, tomorrow and yesterday
World is ruled by all the fuss is about the same .
What day - Friday or Saturday ?
At the head of confusion , something bothers me .
Week after week , year after year , day after day
Fuss , it seems to us that we live
Invented the facts of life , fragments of thought
Their imprints on the retina erased
All returns worries me something.
Strength is leaving to fight in armored glass
human souls - do not break
Cold showers, bad teeth , snow
And what man does not get tired , I ask myself the question :
" Why did you grow up , what you grew up ?
If you do not remember what day today
And the day before that , and what kind of game where the fuss about? "
( As the days , weeks, and everything in this world than
is no room for pure hearts , not eaten
global changes in the structure of the conventional
development , the world has almost died ... )
I do not know when he will die this world
He procuration and burnt through to the holes
Everything merged in it - today, tomorrow and yesterday
World is ruled by all the fuss is about the same .
I hate , I hate everything
Only see anger , but bury it in yourself .
Everything will be the same , everything will be as always
as long as the rules , the world is ruled ...
(all will be well ... )
... vanity of vanities , vanity
vanity that ...
I can not stop !
Looking at your face I will fight !
I will fight not to merge
not to get lost in the bustle of - vanities !
Tell me , "Yes " and I will answer , "No! "
I do not understand , I do not know what I want
I remember getting out into the world and do remember
tell you what - I will ask you : " Do you hear ?"
