Отин Гокни - Там где
текст песни

Where truth hides and withers, there's no scent of hype, my brother.
My poems are my vows, and they're unlikely to ever be divided into quotes.
We shake our lips, passions, biomass on the line.
In ecstasy from the hype, we search for an oasis on websites.
The caste of power has bared its greedy jaws.
Where Idols in rhinestones, Demons in cassocks.
An outcast or a stigma, we have no other choice.
The seed of discord has sprouted long ago.
These are just the tip of the iceberg, we're all sinking to the bottom.
Link by link, like dominoes.
***Some are under the system, some remain faithful.
Some became businessmen, some remain unwavering.
For the tribe, for the seed, for the faith and the burden.
What we will convey without a doubt, and don't give a damn about change.
We Don't To be in Bali, how could you not be stranded?
And what was swept away for you, we will see only from afar; poems, like lanterns, will illuminate our path.
And our locomotive, will knock until dawn.
The bolt on our door, cannot be opened beyond zero.
The horizon is far away, the probe promises rain.
And there is hardly enough water to wash away all our sins.
But the Lord has baptized us, and we are ready to go.
Nearby are those who forgave.
We have said goodbye to the rest.
Friends have become family, and from now on.
My world is locked from the inside, you can leave once.
But back, my brother, you can no longer enter.
Where the truth hides, it withers, there is no smell of hype, my brother.
My poems are my vows, and it is unlikely that
they will ever be divided into quotes.
Where the truth hides, it withers, there is no smell of hype, my brother.
My poems are my vows, and It's unlikely
they'll ever be divided into quotes
Signs of a coma are all around, on the faces of familiar people,
The world is vast, I'm like a homeless ghost in it
They don't ask people like you to come backstage for an encore
But I'll gnaw on the truth until I'm stuck
Our life is a drama, but not like on the screen
We're pulling creation, from suffering on the brink
The route is correct, I have no doubt
I write and read, and the supply is inexhaustible
I live correctly, not by the rules
And even if the wind is in my pocket, I'm not here for the bait
I fed my flame with poetry
And I move my lips while the timer ticks
Not a preacher, and not even the best adviser
I believe, but not blindly, and I don't believe gossip
I'd like to leave a trace before I go
While there's no granite above, and the sky is like lapis lazuli
Where the truth hides and withers, there There's no smell of hype, my brother.
My poems are my vows, and it's unlikely they'll ever be divided into quotes.
Where the truth hides and withers, there's no smell of hype, my brother.
My poems are my vows, and it's unlikely they'll ever be divided into quotes.
Some follow in the footsteps, some follow behind.
Some follow in the ranks, some stare from above.
Some are blinded by the spotlights until dawn.
And we're still dragging our turnips and raving about rap.
Some are in game mode, neither dead nor alive.
Some lived happily, not caring about the regime.
Those I irritated, trudge along exhausted behind.
We have one road, but one full of prospects.
My home is my monastery, I cherish what's dear.
My Three Saints are there, I laid down my life for them.
I forgave everyone's offenses, burst like a soap bubble. ,
What settled like dust, shook off and forgot.
Where the truth hides and withers, there is no scent of hype, my brother.
My poems are my vows, and it's unlikely
they will ever be divided into quotes.
Where the truth hides and withers, there is no scent of hype, my brother.
My poems are my vows, and it's unlikely
they will ever be divided into quotes.