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текст песни

We seek meaning where there is none.
Where ashes will remain after decades.
Or happiness. Or the afterlife.
Where there is emptiness and snow outside the window, and the gray smell of cigarettes.

Tell me, do you believe in fairy tales? Huh?

While trading time, they wrote lines.
Faceless poets. And on the icons, tears.
Where chimeras rule, lies absolve sins.
They were a protection when thunderstorms raged in the sky.
They spoke the truth, not pseudo-fairy tales. They controlled time without any power
They changed what doesn't change over the years
A glow on the palette with transparent white paint
They created faith and believed in it themselves
They were immortal, to some extent like dreams
Those who seemed like gods grew old in an instant
People are divided into wars and commit lawlessness
Snowstorms rage week after week
They did everything, believed, believed, and knew
Those they loved were destroyed by cruelty
Freedom from truth, shame, and morality
They got their hands dirty, oh, what a pity, now it's like a fairy tale
A black mask for everyone. Draw your own conclusions! Without fear
We will listen to them until we die
After all, we are so stupid that we only believe in fairy tales

Fairy tales!
That we only believe in fairy tales!
Fairy tales!
That we only believe in fairy tales! Fairy tales!
That we only believe in fairy tales!
Fairy tales!

A lamb got lost in the ash-covered forest
And if it doesn't return home, they'll bury it blind
It was eaten by a wolf, well, anything can happen
The owner won't cry before the amulet inside the barracks
It's not like we're going to look for bones, but deep in the forest.
One more, one less, and still living on
Losing his flock in the forest like little Indians losing their home
"Cure leprosy!" the old man whispered to the icon
One fine day, he decided to take a walk through the forest
He saw a bright light, but couldn't move from the spot
A quiet voice whispered: "Fool, run quickly!"
He didn't believe him—he himself bleated like a ram.
He ran in panic toward the light, wearing down his hooves.
Through ravines, fields, steppes, and monoliths.
Some unknown force squeezed his heart inside.
The old man fell prostrate at the unmarked grave.
The wind wept for his loss, the willows groaned.
He, too, lived like everyone else, but died a negligent man.
No one will remember the name of the tulip in lamb's clothing.
He remains a fairy tale in people's minds, a craquelure portrait.

Do you believe in fairy tales?

They remained fairy tales
They remained and became
They remained fairy tales
Remained and grew old

We seek meaning where there is none
Where ashes will remain after decades
Either for good or for good
Where there is emptiness and the gray smell of cigarettes
We seek meaning where there is none
Where ashes will remain after decades
Either for good or for good
Where there is emptiness and the gray smell of cigarettes

We seek meaning where there is none
Where ashes will remain after decades
After decades
And the smell of gray cigarettes
We seek meaning there (We seek meaning there)
Where ashes will remain after decades (Where ashes will remain)
Either for good or for good
And the smell of gray cigarettes