Instead of warmth - the green of glass,
Instead of flame - there is smoke;
The day has been plucked from the calendar's net.
The red sun burns to the ground,
And the day burns out with it.
Shadow falls on the glowing city.
Change! - demand our hearts.
Change! - demand our eyes.
In our laughter and in our tears,
And in the pulsing of our veins:
"Change!
We're waiting for change!"
Electric light extends our day,
And the matchbox is empty,
But in the kitchen gas burns like a blue flower.
Cigarettes in hand, tea on the table - this layout is simple,
And there's nothing else, everything is in us.
Change! - demand our hearts.
Change! - demand our eyes.
In our laughter and in our tears,
And in the pulsing of our veins:
Change! We're waiting for change!
We can't boast of the wisdom of our eyes,
Or the skilled gestures of our hands;
We don't need all that to understand each other.
Cigarettes in hand, tea on the table - this is how the circle closes,
And suddenly we become afraid to change anything.
Change! - demand our hearts.
Change! - demand our eyes.
In our laughter and in our tears,
And in the pulsing of our veins:
"Change!
We're waiting for change!"
Change! - demand our hearts.
Change! - demand our eyes.
In our laughter and in our tears,
And in the pulsing of our veins:
Change! We're waiting for change!
kyucat
vil4ckc
St. Sol
сб, 01/02/2020 - 16:04
Don Juan 
Diazepan Medina 
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