Èãðà.
She’s plastic, she’s speed read, a classic line between the lines
Îíà ïëàñòè÷íà , îíà ñ÷èòûâàåò ñêîðîñòü ,êëàññè÷åñêàÿ ëèíèÿ ìåæäó ðåïëèêàìè.
Fantastic and half dead, his tactic, blind to warning signs
Ïîòðÿñàþùàÿ è ïîëóì¸ðòâàÿ ,åãî òàêòèêà ,ñëåïà ê ïðåäóïðåæäàþùèì çíàêàì
Her clashes of colors are flashes of society
Ÿ öâåòíûå êîíôëèêòû - ýòî êàäðû îáùåñòâà .
In ashes his dollars like posters of a tragic love story
Åãî äîëëàðû â ïåïëå , ñëîâíî ïëàêàòû ñ òðàãè÷åñêîé èñòîðèåé ëþáâè .
See the puppet master laugh, astride a pale horse
Óâèäåòü õîõî÷óùåãî ìàñòåðà ìàðèîíåòîê ,âåðõîì íà áëåäíîì êîíå
And take another photograph, for selfie intercourse
È ñäåëàòü åù¸ îäèí ñíèìîê , â ñåëôè îáùåíèè .
Reading out the epitaph of our pointless wars
Çà÷èòàòü ýïèòàôèþ íàøèõ áåññìûñëåííûõ âîéí,
For love we will tear us down
Ðàäè ëþáâè ìû ïîãóáèì ñåáÿ .
He’s shooting at shadows, portraying a proper soldier boy
Îí ñòðåëÿåò â òåíè , èçîáðàæàÿ íàñòîÿùåãî ñîëäàòèêà
She’s thinking, in logos, still searching for the real mccoy
Îíà äóìàåò ,â ëîãîòèïàõ,åù¸ èùóò íàñòîÿùóþ Ìàêêîé.
Broadcasters, they’ve got this, disasters, a wasp of a satire
Äèêòîðû , îíè ïîëó÷àò ýòî,áåäñòâèÿ, æàëÿùàÿ ñàòèðà .
Like actors who french kiss right after someone stole their fire
Ïîäîáíî àêò¸ðàì ,êîòîðûå öåëóþòñÿ ñðàçó ïîñëå ,êàê íåêòî ïîõèòèò èõ îãîíü .
See/Hear the puppet master laugh, astride a pale horse
Óâèäåòü/Óñëûøàòü õîõî÷óùåãî ìàñòåðà ìàðèîíåòîê ,âåðõîì íà áëåäíîì êîíå
And take another photograph, for selfie intercourse
È ñäåëàòü åù¸ îäèí ñíèìîê , â ñåëôè îáùåíèè .
Reading out the epitaph of our pointless wars
Çà÷èòàòü ýïèòàôèþ íàøèõ áåññìûñëåííûõ âîéí,
For love we will tear us
Ðàäè ëþáâè ìû ïîãóáèì ñåáÿ .
Down that beaten path she treads
Ïî ïðîòîðåííîìó ïóòè îíà íàñòóïàåò .
Mirage the blushing bride he weds
Åãî ïîíåäåëüíèê,ìèðàæ êðàñíîé íåâåñòû.
Yesterday’s diamonds and pearls
Â÷åðàøíèå áðèëëèàíòû è æåì÷óãà
Now worthless trinkets in their world
Òåïåðü áåñïîëåçíûå áåçäåëóøêè â èõ ìèðå .
The salty tang of blood, sensations running hot
Ñîë¸íûé ïðèâêóñ ,îñîáåííîñòü êðîâè , îùóùåíèÿ íàêàëÿþòñÿ
Snow blindness in pitch darkness, mindless rage
Ñíåæíàÿ ñëåïîòà â êðîìåøíîé òüìå , ãëóïî ïñèõîâàòü
And then you see the puppet master laugh
È òîãäà òû óâèäèøü õîõî÷óùåãî ìàñòåðà ìàðèîíåòîê
And take another photograph
È ñäåëàé äðóãîé ñíèìîê .
See/Hear the puppet master laugh, astride a pale horse
Óâèäåòü/Óñëûøàòü õîõî÷óùåãî ìàñòåðà ìàðèîíåòîê ,âåðõîì íà áëåäíîì êîíå
And take another photograph, for selfie intercourse
È ñäåëàòü åù¸ îäèí ñíèìîê , â ñåëôè îáùåíèè .
Reading out the epitaph of our pointless wars
Çà÷èòàòü ýïèòàôèþ íàøèõ áåññìûñëåííûõ âîéí,
When love, love could be our crown
Êîãäà ëþáîâü , ëþáîâü ìîæåò áûòü íàøèì âåíöîì .
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îðèãèíàëüíûé òåêñò ãðóïïû "POTF".