Lyrics KONFETNIY ZAVOD - промзона

My soul is an endless abandoned industrial zone
With scraps of grayed from the soot of lawn
With forgotten scruffy flower beds
With the sad buildings of the deka and clubs
Along the avenues leading to
Are standing flaky busts now unfamiliar
For a long time irrelevant idols
They rest in peace with their names
Next to the deka stretches the fence
Two meters, newspaper-colored concrete
Barbed wire rust red squeaky metal
Behind a fence of a hangar, in hangars the subjects
Past Time
Left this place of the ancient tribe
Spirits industrious for the sake of a far and sweet idea
About flights to exo-planets and stars
Dreams were destined to dissipate into the wind
Without shocks - just lost brilliance
Grinded steel surface
The spirits are tired, they scattered to some place, abandoned, forgotten
Since then, year after year, the layers of spring mud and dust
Covered the red brick of empty shops
Now no one is ready for work and defense
In the left car a pile of books
On the Bygone era
Accidentally caught up in this desert area
The traveler is trying to understand something about something to remember
Wanders through the projected passages, aisles, streets
In a fruitless doomed action tormented
Looks, digs in scraps of wall newspaper
In drawings and schemes yellowed under the weight of years
Not finding motivations and at least some ambitions
In the portraits of the conserved persons
Systematically traced emptiness
The beauty of old ideas seems illusory
The fact of an axiological fiasco is disgraceful
There is an eerie desire
Hang on the high-voltage wire
And without unclenching hands to reach the ground
But in this world there are no lights
So these actions will not bring the result
 
Smells like gasoline
Cars rush past - quickly pass a gloomy section of the road
Bridge rails
Unhappy songs without words
The red church in the park laughs gilded sorrow over my face