Текст песни Alienation's Verge - Summer's gust

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Summer's gust
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09.02.2021 | 12:20:09
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You are not here. I don’t feel
By my glare. Run against the
warm dampness.
Having breathe
in moist
heaviness of
The thick june air.

I am
slowly moving …
Under the boring circumstances
allied
extents.
Hiding into the open
windows.
Running to the
mist of dreams.
Wandering in the sameness
the absence of thoughts.

If only the reality
will not
decay.
If only
the memory
wouldn't creep.
And tell that
you are not here.

Ты не рядом. Я ничего не чувствую
Взглядом. Натыкаясь на теплую сырость
Вдыхаю влажную тяжесть.
Густого июньского воздуха.
Медленно перемещаюсь.
В скучных условиях смежных объемов
Прячусь в открытые окна.
Убегаю в туманы снов.
Хожу в однородном безмыслии.
Чтоб только мир удержался.
Чтоб не подкралась память.
О том что ты не рядом…

I am like alive and pensive.
Creating voiceless letters to lost to nowhere.
Reflecting idly and dry.
What’s the essence of this time?
I am waiting for the endless longness.
And I can see not more than everything
not more than everything.

Hardening worn by the wind.
Seared, burnt out by the sun.
I'm fading filled of poison.
And by realize that you are not here.
You are not here. I don’t feel
By my glare. Run against the
warm dampness.
Having breathe
in moist
heaviness of
The thick june air.

I am
slowly moving ...
Under the boring circumstances
allied
extents.
Hiding into the open
windows.
Running to the
mist of dreams.
Wandering in the sameness
the absence of thoughts.

If only the reality
will not
decay.
If only
the memory
wouldn't creep.
And tell that
you are not here.

You are not near. I do not feel anything
With a glance. Bumping into warm dampness
I inhale the wet weight.
Thick June air.
Moving slowly.
In boring conditions of adjacent volumes
I hide in open windows.
I'm running away into the fogs of dreams.
I walk in uniform thoughtlessness.
So that only the world can hold out.
So that memory does not creep up.
That you are not near ...

I am like alive and pensive.
Creating voiceless letters to lost to nowhere.
Reflecting idly and dry.
What’s the essence of this time?
I am waiting for the endless longness.
And I can see not more than everything
not more than everything.

Hardening worn by the wind.
Seared, burnt out by the sun.
I'm fading filled of poison.
And by realize that you are not here.
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