Vārdi: Stairs (The). On Sleep Lab. Smoking Armada.

So long we were undoubtedly strong,
drawing on what we could draw
and looking tanks in the nose.
Who knew that it could tumble so soon,
that change withers in a moment?

Long days, we didn't take any pay,
said what they told us to say--
it was the least you could do!
My girl, you were the rest of the world;
your face didn't leave a moment...

Come down, deliverer, and see what we've done!
Come down, deliverer, and take your place!
Too late--they didn't offer to wait.
They took you out of my side,
just like a rib in a book,
and what returned to face me was understood
not to be the same thing.

So long I wondered where I went wrong.
I lifted up to the throne whatever jewels were around:
no answer.
But it's better to dance in chains, waiting for a moment!
1917 or 18, Gregorian or Julian, numbers bring me down.
'68 was almost all right: paintings in the moonlight,
calling down the smoking armada