УТРАТА - Вымысел
текст песни

If life is like a ravine by the roadside,
Everyone thinks, "If only I could grow a little taller."
Healing the wounds that bleed profusely,
Filling the space in the heart reserved for honors.

A succession of targeted strikes aimed at society—
Not always truthful, nor truly sincere, for that matter.
Having taken a turn along the way, you forget just what paved that road.

The scope of one's ambition bears no proportion to one's actual standing;
Only the wind drives the meager purse ever forward.
A piston, unbroken—at least until now—
Striving to fill the embrasure of the night (to the very brim).

An insatiable desire—
It stands above all else, above every superfluity.
And no matter how many failures are prophesied,
There is nothing left to incriminate.

Teetering on the edge of the abyss—
One step back, and there is nowhere left to go.
The maw of past failures gapes wide open;
Please—if only I do not fall.

Please—if only I do not fall.
To have time to savor debauchery to the full.
To outplay the competition by a couple of points.
To cross the finish line without a false start.

I am no fantasy.
I am no fiction.
No, I am no fantasy.
I truly endured all of this in reality.

I am no fantasy.
I am no fiction.
No, I am no fantasy.
I truly endured all of this in reality.