Текст песни Initial Chaos - Улицы мертвого города

back streets of the dead city maze of words unspoken
if the sky like clouds nails rip nodes connected
asphalt draining thoughts in the catacombs of civilization
we play with other people's lives from birth to cremation
we play with other people's feelings sometimes getting into thirds
teshim stone arts mind adding spices to taste
camouflage inside wretched phrases beaten raw mats
il be like everyone else even used many not to feel a poison with skin
puberty eternity as cheap comic heroes
marveling at their ease drowning in musty swamp complexes
too boring for many leads do not invent excuses
argument does not fit in the arm bare wire
like unbearable cold on the temples very heavy hammer
barefoot on dreams split peredavlennyh milled
too hard to get used to the points somewhere between floors hung we
between the edges of the steel sharpening between the lines unborn thoughts
long night I can not sleep cold gateways lanes
dirty in the wilds of the dead city surrendering steps echoing
running away from the inevitability of not looking back
LOST dose of tenderness death will share with you privately
the girl's body is still warm at the curb is not cooled down
someone's spotless clean someone's sweetheart someone's ex
someone else a chance to escape loneliness someone's muse holy beautiful
someone proud Highness someone's damn that sucked so cool
has opened a vicious circle cut short track Thorn
torn pantyhose on frozen blood clot blackish scab
Protocol witnesses inquiry time of death time of arrival
photographs to identify the position of the body opening
readings girlfriends fuzzy personal communication victim
a slice of bread on a pile with vodka tears grizzled mother
back streets of the city of the dead smell of death smell of powerlessness
smell the smell of envy hunger smell the smell of blood violence
enjoying while we are young animation feelings rubber
dose of joy into a vein to inject a syringe filled with an aspen stake
we inhale fumes from sewage filled with vitality
spreading hematemesis on obharkannym dirty railing
We have long been accustomed to deception hypocritical compassion
picking his emotional wounds coveted torture
hiding behind others' backs unopened bleeding veins
our souls has become a showcase and we are a long time dummies
we tread the same path in the dusty smog leaves Sokhna
one questioning God well, when? when? when? When we Die?