moss

Instead of warmth, there is the green of glass, Instead of fire - smoke, A day is snatched from the calendar grid. The red sun burns to ashes, The day burns out with him, A shadow falls over the burning city.

Change! - our hearts demand. Change! - our eyes demand. In our laughter, and in our tears, and in the pulsation of our veins - Changes! We are waiting for changes!

Electric light continues our day, And the matchbox is empty, But in the kitchen the gas burns like a blue flower. Cigarettes in hand, tea on the table - This scheme is simple, And there is nothing else, everything is within us.

Change! - our hearts demand. Change! - our eyes demand. In our laughter, and in our tears, and in the pulsation of our veins - Changes! We are waiting for changes!

We cannot boast of the wisdom of our eyes And with skillful hand gestures, We don't need all this to understand each other. Cigarettes in hand, tea on the table - Thus the circle closes, And suddenly we become afraid to change anything.

Change! - our hearts demand. Change! - our eyes demand. In our laughter, and in our tears, and in the pulsation of our veins - Changes! We're waiting for change! What's so funny about that? What's so funny about it? Is life really worth so little to you?!