Не рубите, мужики!
В советские институтские времена инязовские студенты всегда жили дружно. Ведь делить было нечего (всё было поделено еще до нас!). Царили мир и дружба…
Ashes of Home
I was rolling back home from the land of nowhere
Shredding soul into blood, scraping through to high pitch,
Thoughtful days, painful nights going past to elsewhere,
Hoping home was not far at the range of my reach.
War Within
Pain is all I can feel killing me every day
Wrapped by walls thick and high, find myself in a cage
When I have to say yes but behave otherwise
Playing game to pretend being smart but not wise
And the stone is so hard and the rule is so strict
I’m helpless to break with my bloody smashed fists
And I’d wish to cry out to let someone hear
But choke down my tears whispering in despair
О Директиве № 1 («антиалкогольной»)
На год Лошади
Сменяются эпохи, проходят времена,
Давно уже колеса попрали стремена,
Но даже в век моторов бывает сложно нам
Найти альтернативу обычным лошадям.
Morning Dew / Утренняя роса
Morning dew is on the ground
Traces left still wet behind
Walking down the desert streets
Waiting for the night to quit
Ghost Play / Игра воображения
Before You Die . . .
As the daily routine the Death comes along
Taking toll of those been listed for so long
And so it came to someone next victim on the wait
And then it was just business and neither love nor hate