Крик цикад - Капсула времени
текст песни

Another dead child, but where should he live?

Through the tunnel into the light and here is your world, where people are snakes

Thoughts with antics of mystery, that it’s time to sew up the ripped open by the ancients

I give you the swamps of endless swamps, try to go through, but you will get stuck in lies



The path is full of thorns, it meanders, the sides are borders

Fill yourself like a jug looking around, for the soul the eye is a container

The power of tyrants keeps pressing on the choice, stepping in the faces with a heavy tarpaulin

The clock will strike twenty-five and you will no longer be able to escape from the thought police.



The world is primitive as before, street tags are drawings in the rocks

Do you see how the dinosaur excavator devours dead snow?

The sun will be covered by rows of overpasses, but the past oozes a quiet echo into tomorrow

The atmosphere and thousands of years of precipitation, history will crumble with faded paint.



We have endured the drought, which means winter will soon be upon us.

Such a paradox: our world is primitive, but at the same time made of composite

Here sometimes they extend a helping hand to the weak, although the vector of strength is opposite

People are against Darwinian evolution, this dissonance is so depressing



Remember, everything is real, except people - they are all just shadows

Prices for souls depend on the length of their chains and the poison on the chelicerae

Seeing others you will see a grin through which they barely say hello, how are you

And behind the eyes they tear into pieces dripping with saliva like a three-headed Cerberus



A flimsy foundation destroys a shaky house

We will be swallowed by the era of ecstasy into the sticky insides, through a greedy mouth

People go crazy coming out of the windows, because the soul is boiling water, it’s a step into concrete

As a result, this bloody tent continues the performance



Strict boundaries are marked, with hundreds of rakes on the way

Having stepped on the persecution of the cops more than once, your thoughts will fall asleep from the mental noose

This is our whole nature, you don’t have to be a prophet

To know from birth the vices mutilate fates and pull the hoarse throat into the garrote



Know... this is your garden, this is your pond

Here they either plant vegetables or drown them in the deep abyss of cold waters.

The system of bank cards and paper bills is unlikely to be reproached

Only a small cult firmly believes that Tyler will soon pull the trigger



Centuries of continuous drunkenness and human stubbornness will pass

The shackles of progress will collapse and the world will sink into the darkness of the antediluvian kingdom.

Nature will rightfully reclaim its own, a new race will arise from the ruins

Along deserted roads, hunters lay out narrow strips of meat to dry.



The dawn is visible, the clouds will cover the universe with a veil

The meaning of life is extremely simple; it is just a metamorphosis; man is humus.

Dig your soul out of the garbage pit, wash your hands before eating

And think about where love suddenly disappeared between the heaps of unnecessary rubbish



You'll come to your senses after midnight, around thirty

The path on the mirror is like a highway to nowhere, but it helps to invigorate

Another one is trying to get into the backstage of actresses

But you will get lost, not understanding where the fiction is, like Alice through the looking glass.



Here a forest of a thousand buildings shines in the darkness with millions of windows

But alien light does not bring warmth; all insects have their own cocoon

A common hive with a measured life of soulless machines

Endless swamps in which we get stuck all our lives, drowning in lies