Look for something that can't be found Hasn't been found yet Look for fields of finger-like grass Ready to be hugged at any moment Like a dog without it's master Scarerow thrown into the not flowing river
The circle of tears I dissolve everyday faster and faster I feel like being consumed, consumed...
I'm a piece of lard To be peck whenever you want Son of a bitch All the bulbs are broken Even the big one The one everything depends on... But there must be another way
There's nothing between seasons Only the night She has'n changed The ink like one
Sat on my facewaving its cassock She did it on purpose I knew she was without her pants
The circle of tears I dissolve everyday, faster and faster I feel like being consumed I'm a piece of lard To be peck whenever yoiu want son of a gun
A drink of death The horizons comming closer You're talking yourself, alone again We run We rest at night Somewhere under bridges or on the crossroads Where nobody is... Open and prepare my mouth in the name of new god A drink of death You're talking yourself, alone again The curtain was supposed to fall after the show Fade away On the shouting crowd There's nothing to last any longer There'll be no enore Fuk you assholes! No refund for the tickets We run We rest at night Somewhere under bridges or on the crossroads Where nobody is... I see everywhere around the swarm of runners Like moths flying towards the hot bulb
There's nothing between seasons Only the night She hasn't changed The ink-like one