Demetra - Создатель
текст песни

Create in the image and likeness? Oh, I already heard it once.

I heard, I saw, I know. I even realize.

I remember those who called themselves people. Miserable creatures. But so different ... Someone had a mind, someone dictated the path of the heart. And someone was selfish, greedy to power and glory. But…

Oh yes, there is one "but". Each has a soul. No matter what vice overwhelm a person, he always remained himself, albeit somewhere there, in the backyard of consciousness.

Almost every of them appreciated their own life above all, but because of a broken heart, they could step into oblivion without fear without hesitation. It was funny to see this. Know and remember.

Oh yes, I remember. I ... I am the same. Almost. Is it a person?

I don't remember. My soul is old and thin, barely holds in the physical body, under the load of experienced. But memory and longevity are eternal to me, for all my affairs. And therefore, I do now. From boredom and hopelessness. To entertain yourself at least a little, to find meaning for a brief moment. Indeed, in order to put my hands on myself, I can never get courage and insolence. The courage to meet with the darkness, enveloping and empty, like non -being, and insolence ... to look into the eyes of all those whom I will leave.

So ... clay is sculpting, pitching his hands. Red, with an admixture of sand and lake mud. It is wet, even too much, smears her hands and slings off my fingertips in the old man-in-law, knotted from arthritis.

In your image and likeness, say?

You can’t do it, oh, you can’t. Let them be with flaws. Let them be blue and miserable, let the selfish freaks be self -loving, who do not know love and tenderness, who can kill. Who is not important. Each other, prey, those who want to kill them.

And their greatest virtue will make greed. Let them save, protect, cherish and cherish their jewelry, which in practice are nothing. A bunch of sparkling pebbles.

By investing in them lust, I will make a hundred times more to breed than necessary. In order for the children to be a bargaining coin, a reflection of the pipe dreams of their parents, so that the children suffer and become copies of those who gave rise to them. Let them rape, humiliate, kill, forcing each other writhes in pain and disgust.

Pride will give them more than to pass by the old people who need bread. To forget their parents, to hate those who are below their status, forget the objectionable friends ...

And some, very, very few, I will give love and compassion. So that they suffer the most, surrounded by such.

Create in the image and likeness? Why, if you want to sit in the creators?

It is much easier for their children to create crippled to patronize them and amuse them, observing their swing.

Like flies in mud, by golly. Ah, yes. Pun.

Although, no. I am not a god. I ... I am a man. At least, in your own thoughts, it is worth recognizing.

And so ... Two figures are ready - male and female. Roughly blind, rather schematically than correctly.

As soon as I blow on them, inflating my cheeks and making a deep breath before ...

No. And yet, no matter what, I am a person.

I am human.

The man who created these. In the image and likeness. Almost.

I am human.

Creator. A crooked and blind artist, painting paintings, listening to music that a stray musician plays under the window. Mediocre.

I…