Ка тет - Уроборос - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

We are still there, where the damp stone of the houses is, the beaten dust of the roads.

The ocean is silent above us, jellyfish of clouds drifting across the horizon.

A new day, like a golden blade, will tear the veil of stars.

A number that fell on its side became a snake biting its tail.

Ouroboros. People became goosebumps running along its spine;

Fear strangles them with bony fingers when silence strikes their ears.

A hundred-mouthed rumor has scattered rubbish in the dusty corners of consciousness.

A ringing under the vaults of the skull, every step at random, and it only makes one sick.

It is everywhere here. The run continues, we carry our cross on our shoulders,

But life, dust and decay, weighs down harder than the Everests of problems, and there is no longer the strength

to trudge to nowhere along the loose steep slope. There's no strength to carry the grinding chains.

White scars from swift whips on a bony back.

This serpent cannot be fed. He dropped the grains of truth into the chaff of chatter.

He tirelessly repeats the curves of the underground river.

He has become a symbol of eternal struggle. After all, sometimes people, here,

Are capable of changing only under the heel of fate.

The gray city crawls along on business, Ouroboros gnawing its tail.

In the black mirror of the monitor, Ouroboros gnawing its tail.

Insatiable hunger, Ouroboros gnawing its tail.

A black raven circles, decayed brushwood crumbles.

The gray city crawls along on business, Ouroboros gnawing its tail.

In the black mirror of the monitor, Ouroboros gnawing its tail.

Insatiable hunger, Ouroboros gnawing its tail. A black raven circles, the decaying brushwood crumbles.

Senectute rests on my shoulders, and my heart is tired of spitting out blood.

Someone managed to plant the seeds, but more are here who have made a mess.

The guest of endless paths, like an eternal Tantalus, pursues his goal, serving his time here;

Until it expires, we hope to snatch our piece from fate's pocket.

I see how they are chopping off the branch they are sitting on, not keeping their finger on the pulse.

In the whirlpool of disputes, the crocodiles of philosophical discussions will drown again.

A celebration amid death throes.

Mountains of shattered illusions will cling to the heart like splinters!

The blind man will say that he saw the enemy easily, from afar;

The smallest dwarf will again shout at every step that he is a giant! Here they boast that they're flying in the clouds, but in reality, they'd rather touch the ceiling.

Yesterday, everything was in the palm of their hand, today, emptiness crumbles in their fists again...

The gray city crawls along, gnawing its tail.

In the black mirror of the monitor, Ouroboros gnaws its tail.

Insatiable hunger, Ouroboros gnaws its tail.

A black raven circles, the decaying brushwood crumbles.

The gray city crawls along, gnawing its tail.

In the black mirror of the monitor, Ouroboros gnaws its tail.

Insatiable hunger, Ouroboros gnaws its tail.

A black raven circles, the decaying brushwood crumbles.

Ouroboros!