Текст песни the Doorbell - Связанные кровью

On a piece of paper a smooth brushstroke
The writer or someone just like him
Casually spit all that has accumulated.
The interested reader will pick up later.

In the recesses of Twitter and Instagramov
Hundreds of thousands of innocent and narrow-minded snobs
To get lost at least one abnormal,
And live, alas, the remaining days at home.

On the lost villages of the living magazine
A faded mind sheds tears;
The reader, turn over its own memory,
He does not understand why the mind is no longer laughing.

The vastness of the blue and white contact pages
Fingers doomed clicked with the mouse;
From person to person, from the address in the address.
Doomed for a long time to be seen and not heard.

Soul lost in the maze of words,
Print once, by someone;
They do not carry far behind,
After all, if they are locked in a cage;
And their fate tied tight
With the fate of those who
He left his mark on all forgotten
Pages of memories, tears and tantrums.