Текст песни sabotazhe - я стану лучше

we are in a letter from an unknown author,
where awareness is just a postscript,
where the world won't say sorry
for gluing stencils on us without asking.
where as a teenager I hated nasty adults
but he himself became the same
where you are not able to see with your eyes everything that is hidden,
and all that is capable is tiny

and everything inside is sensory, or push-button.
to be a capsule containing a cry: I hate,
or reflection in a drop flowing from under the seas in the pupil,
be a profit card,
or personally by the Cabinet of Curiosities,
and there is no time for your piquancy.

I pass an excuse through the camera tape
memories of my own youth,
and others have a foundation of prejudice
and pseudo-unique syndrome,
but in essence it is only pernicious.

and the real me is in the inner back room
under an umbrella, for inside showers of tears
and for the fifth year it has been sunless.
I've tried so many social roles that it's time to extend the pass.
we are like blind beings
looking in a skyscraper without knowing what,
while the answer card is hidden in the shaft under the elevator.

and I consist of compromises and complexes,
looking for doors without a compass
and either it was all in vain, or it clicked
your cure for space.
I want to break the line
cut off all internal confrontations and disasters,
outbursts of internal aggression,
which in principle I would have done, but life whispers to me
with an inner voice: no need, I will become better