Текст песни Антракт - Мастер Последних Дел

Master the last cases

Cut off from the world shot
Draw the white walls of the mind,
Throw stёkshuyu mucus sincerity,
Turn the key in the lock.
Pain surrenders airborne,
In memory of the procession will be the torch.
All your feelings now - traitors,
An even a bouquet of flowers.

From the impossible distracted you?
Etching acid on the canvas face.
Our hearts have drunk to the dregs
Bitter clear juice.
Feel like fills the room
Gas dumb silent Boggart?
Fear - is the extra body cares.
Overcome outflow.

Reality is not illusion of authenticity.
You - the musical props in a foul.
How easily they have narrowed the scope of
Cult of their bodies ...
Cut off from the world, engrave
All the locks on the doors. Milestones
Your immortal soul guards
Master the last cases.