Текст песни Seven Skies In Me - Сквозь Дым

Behind closed windows light,
Only alone silhouettes.
Snow falls in our rooms,
We forgot about summer.
And znobit, cold screens,
Someone from news tapes
Or marijuana ...

In this indifference, something crazy:
A mixture of fruitlessness and a polulmium.

Through the thick, tobacco smoke,
We are not visible shores.
And they fell on the heads
Tons of clouds.

Radiators of heat system,
Do not melt the heart.
And from the cold, hiding under the plaid,
We will not be able to warm up.
As if bile, on the cooled vessels,
Breaking the Blood Rage ...
We lose the reason.

In Infernality - something literal:
Fun all, unagnation is sad

Through the thick, tobacco smoke,
We are not visible shores.
And they fell on the heads
Tons of clouds.

Through the thick, tobacco smoke,
Impartially see light.
In the prism forgotten souls,
Which is not.