Текст песни Проект G-Sound - Хроника

"Chronicle"

Paradox:

I have sad eyes, I look ahead
And I do not turn back to look back
To heaven, on skyscrapers, I'm waiting for a miracle,
All these feelings fly away from me in the past,
And my wings will no longer grow up,
Everything that was already cooled down, it was.
I understood a lot in this life,
And in my own way I express the pretense of thoughts.
About that time, about those minutes of stupid,
About people, everyday life and a clock of the prodigal.
My universe is infinite, it is ignorant ...
Excellent, the answer would find so logical,
And more polarly, the essence is full of differences,
As a Da Vinci code complex and unusual,
This is how the custom is in a bunny.
Run away from everything and from all at once,
No, this is not mine that will not prove anything.
Stand still and fight further,
Stay to the end without any falsehood,
And what to continue to accept everything that is,
Wait for the finals to get out the suit,
Let, even if sadness whines in the soul ...
You know I can give advice, do you want to listen to yes or not?
True, worse than a gun,
Will shoot without a misfire right in the heart,
He will leave behind the feeling of lead by the hands of a scoundrel,
Which will not hide from the back of the face,
Before the act of the killer, like a sharp knitting needle ...


Chorus:

Paradox:
Someone does it, and someone prays on it,
Someone is amusing, but someone does not want anything.
But the problem is not in us, it is among our false, sick eyes.

Locki:
The thought is deep and like the thread stretch.
While this veil is in front of my eyes.
I read the lines, speaking to myself:
Thank God all this chronicle is not with me.

Locki:

They all believe in God. They are ordinary people.
They can even be far from these topics.
They are not familiar with the concern of their parents at night.
And conscience is not about them. After all, they are already adults.
"Walking on the blade" -Credo is direct heroic.
Live suicidal gas pedals press.
Adrenaline taste and thoughts past the brain.
It seems to me that this is all that they need in life.
Alcohol mixed with blood. Night and darkness.
Desert route. Auto for a hundred.
Either glitches or shadows. No one understood.
Whistle brakes. Revolution. Crack and groans.
Out of the four that were inside, one in a coma,
The rest have moved away, few will remember them.
The one that ended up in a coma was driving.
They usually say about these: "lucky"
On the way to the hospital, he survived the clinical,
He stood at the end of the tunnel, returned back.
The Lord was given a chance
So you need to fix everything.
If not crippled, then for happiness, but ...
Conscience for us is a living tormentor.
But only. Open window. Windowsill.
Further censorship, suddenly, cuts the lines.
Strength inside, my friend, you remember that.