Текст песни Скэффолд - Мёртвые души

Nor lines on a sheet,
Neither sound in silence
And all the strokes are not those
On the dead canvas.
Some creature
Crawling to your feet.
Do not deny it
Pray to gods.

Under the granite of gravestones
Do your last step
Believe what wakes up
Dead soul.

Did not sound a verse
Did not block the sketch.
No more hope
And then - only down.
And learned moan
On joy to all enemies
Send to the sky.

Melodies without notes
Without color beauty,
Without height flight
In the grave without a cross.
And ectic verse
Reading in syllables
You are an obituary post.
Pray to gods.