Текст песни Эквилибриум - Мёртвый город

The sky above Peter seems too harsh
there is not a single star in it at night.
The sky is often sick - usually thunder,
rains, flashes of thunderstorms,
rumbling in the ears ..
and listen
it hurts
for moral and mental health -
all strangers and not accustomed to you.

City, on the exuberant Neva.
A city that eats souls and faces
a city that gives birth to detachment,
city ​​on rough book pages -
city ​​of illusion and cutting pain.

Hundreds of windows prowl their hands every year
by this simple upward-pulling movement,
to dissolve forever in the sounds
crying, snowing spring.

Thousands of eyes every meter of gray shades
run again, rushing somewhere, in a hurry.
As if in a ridiculous, looped scene,
Running around, half-lungs barely breathing.

And millions of wasted thoughts
Decayed destinies, paper days ..
Resistance is generally pointless -
be born, live and grow old -

don't think what kind of life it is
all this is just a dream
in which we fall down
deeper and deeper
into the darkness.