Текст песни moohamore - Взор в разум

A flap of wings, for a moment. Blink.

Have you seen emptiness, or have you seen the world when you gazed into the darkness?

Only a refractive effect flowing around the mind, along the contour here.
Illuminating and weaving your world of warmth, like an elastic cord.
Elements of structure, it's important to understand beauty here.
With iridescent colors, intertwined into a picture, without canvas or observer.
As if against a blank wall, I strike with a petal, creating a hole.
I fly, a shimmering owl over the desert, at a point of rest.
Without a goal. Touching the edge of what is called "You."

Hanging in eternal flight, stretched strings, experiencing a rainbow of feelings.
Dancing the rumba, I drag myself. Balancing on the edge of dawn.

In a world where there is nothing but falling.
Clinging to the air in my chest. Creating a world with every stroke of thought.
Every breath, like a gunshot. In the spectrum of attention.
A curious paradigm is that the volume on which the information lines are wound is uniform and not connected to the sequential order of causes.
All the threads are like smoke, floating in the void, forming a quantum bubble.
It is my home; a fly agaric mushroom rises from the surface of these waves.
Existing as a particle, and as a stream flying into the darkness.
Path. From the raging surface of a fire, a beam breaks upward into the void.
You jump along the waves of channels. Switching days with the click of a shutter.
An actor playing himself in a film, not understanding where the film is leading him.
On a reel of film, in an empty cinema.
Equations are formed only in the head. On paper, only signs.
Where the result is unchanged by changing the order of the terms.
Dots in a quantum field. They see a theater of shadows, but know nothing of light.
The gaze hung in the void. It began to survey the world.
Becoming a small cage. A gap in freedom. In the general trill of melodies.
It's like a well-choreographed sleight-of-hand trick.
At first, there is only silence. Then noise appears. From it, sound emerges.
Resigned, a unique snowflake in a snowfall, dissolves and turns into mud.
Photographs of fear and passion. A beetle flies toward a mirage.
Like dead fish, they swim in the abyss, chasing their own light.
Here is the point of no return; it's too late to turn back; now only into the abyss.
Covering our gaze with your palm, you will hear the beating of a heart.
In which every drop becomes a sea.

If footprints lead through the snow to you, does this mean you've walked through the cold deserts
To the very edge of the earth, where you turn into a beast.

The mastery of communicating with emptiness lies in the fact that no one will answer you.
Even after finding all the doors, you won't understand the outcome.
Like a bat, you must hear the whole world. And fall into the depths.
A wolf needs a mouth to howl at the moon. He stretched a fabric around the center of the earth.
A multitude of frequencies intertwined in a bundle. A portion of entropy carrying a flow.
At the point of "now," flowing past. Walk along the noise of cars. Breathe in the silence.
Shouldering the entire depth of the atmospheric column, maintaining emptiness throughout your life.
We become a shadow. In a world that can be changed. In a world where everything matters. Where actions determine the path.
Having realized flight, it is important to remember that we illuminate what we create.
Certificates, hymns, and speeches. Captions jump from the screen. With the signature "Who are you?"
Throat, trying to chase the elusive light.
You won't find the puppet, the one called "Thought."

How many letters have been sent into the past? Only the angle of view changes.

Returning from the storm. It's impossible to swim against the current, being the flow.

How easy it is for us to live in a great era. When everything becomes art.