Lyrics КонтрКультура - мы всё ближе к корням

a separate peace is not an option, but there is no strength to fight
inevitability in the form of death hangs like a martyr's belt
or a carousel of toys over the bed, fascinating and frightening
fate cannot be avoided
body covered with sweat moves in search of a path
landlocked from emotions and memory assorted
but the fate of the champion is handicap and history
the air is saturated with oil like eternity and serenas soon
will not have time to reach the mutilated body
the earth will not rest for him, but the citadel of languor
"Remember death, but don't forget about life" - that's what he muttered
be strong bro, we are getting closer to the roots!
so they built empires and gathered sects
idea moves matter when there is something to believe
the hand is invisible, and the ghost is somewhere else
be strong bro, troops are on the way, we are getting closer to the roots!
this is the dry residue, a plot, a hodgepodge of metaphors
the invisible soldier who dies at the standard
countless times for disobedience
the iron phoenix will emerge from the metal ash
the eternal enemy will prevail, the vigilant oracle will go blind
a legend will become a myth, an epic will turn into a fairy tale
you need to go to something higher to realize it
be strong bro, troops are on the way, we are getting closer to the roots!
our remains are food for vultures, the planet is a dump,
man is an abstraction trembling in seizures
illusions are now much more real
we are all soldiers in a war where you can only lose
every word is eidos and is essentially worthless
dialogue-maieutics, or system of categories
no better than the bourgeois kitchen tales method
goodbye radical, rhizome turned to stone

this is how empires were built and sects collected
idea moves matter when there is something to believe
the hand is invisible, and the ghost is somewhere else
be strong bro, troops are on the way, we are getting closer to the roots

this is how empires were built and sects collected
idea moves matter when there is something to believe
the hand is invisible, and the ghost is somewhere else
be strong bro, troops are on the way, we are getting closer to the roots
this fact will leave indifferent this product of the mass cult
explosions of amplitudes of fermentation of minds will not bring
desired by those who are unable to drip deeper
from the shovel, the handle will remain in the hands of the madman.

twenty-three years of pain in the body, what else awaits
the one who realized too early that he was doomed
not to live, but to survive, not to rejoice, but to grow old
leave a fraction of the idea here, not the performances-lazzi
and earn money, drag the damn stone up the mountain
secure the fiction of freedom from suffering
covered at night with a blanket of dreams and fantasies
stopped time is your reward, memory

about how he wandered among people and permanent stress
concerns about the authenticity of faith and the effect of action
in the illusion of being, confronting with new strength
daily work and days vs. projectivity
this is an escape from answers, which means responsibility
negating the staples of causal
we believe only in what gives us serenity
and stigmatize the problem of death

so they built empires and gathered sects
idea moves matter when there is something to believe
the hand is invisible, and the ghost is somewhere else
be strong bro, troops are on the way, we are getting closer to our roots
you will be remembered by the retinue dressed in outfits
because life is a theater, a symbolic order
and death is always someone's, it remains to promise
eternal memory from people who are not eternal by their roots