Текст песни P.S. Сима - Колыбельная

They say there is not enough context -
And so nothing. Here are images, words instead
I am me, crazy, screaming in the subway
From wild pain. You are he, loving, kissing on the forehead
They are you reading, because they sent,
Not noticing anything, not even that verse of steel.
These explanations will not help you all in any way.
And a poem won't help
It's like a baby crawls to the wise men
And sing a lullaby to the dead cats

All fingers are torn into blood,
Let's go to the club, there will be dancing.
You thought: snow is dirty flour under your feet,
And I'm scared to fight off bullets with poetry.
They don't hit glass
But I write to myself out of spite.
And the letters are curling tighter into the net
The fish will sing while sitting on a branch:

Hush girl, don't roar
Tell your uncle the whole truth
About cherished places
He will not touch you then.
If you don’t believe the sea,
I'll sing another story
About your inevitable fate
The loser join the fight.
The fish sang on the branches
Fear rose in my chest.

I wake up, and on the tree outside the window
Fish head through cracked glass.