потери. - Восемь - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

My life is dust on the roadsides,

A particle in the great mechanism of the world.

The familiar walls will remember us,

Hiding feelings and secrets from all broadcasts.

Trying to hold onto our happiness,

We cut our fingers on the blade of pain...

Like birds in cages, we dream of freedom,

But we are merely ink on crumpled scraps of paper.

It's so scary to be alone in the dark,

Knowing that no one will reach out a hand.

To begin to doubt that kindness,

Necessary for help in the last minute.

On the shards of depravity, sodomy, and falsehood,

In the doom of days and human vanity,

We have to move on, leaving doubts far behind.

To learn to climb towards the goal,

Resisting difficulties along the way,

Breaking bones, grasping at the ledges of fate,

Hoping that happiness is still ahead.

In the illusions of doomed thoughts, while the fires burn, our empty life acquires meaning, depriving us of the fear of emptiness.

So much strength and so much pain, gratuitously and unprecedentedly, but as long as there is willpower, the soul flies like ashes in the wind.