Текст песни Эгвина Фаталь - РембО

We sat with Rembó yesterday, refueling with absinthe and blues,
outside the window it smelled unbearably of the last August and watermelon,
and hydrangea blue through veins and fine chintz
let in light like a punctured tire - air.
The world was preparing for its logical end
roast beef was being prepared in the oven.
This is the formula: decide - don't decide - the quantities are incommensurable,
there is no one who would be worth big losses,
golden fleece or forced pantomime
at the precious, unshakable five in the morning.
We knew perfectly well that the world does not go to hell
from double standards and loosening of its foundations,
and the Season in Hell is only drama, not the Lord's
pointing finger, no words.