(1) Загадко

(2) Болотная нехристь

(3) Камыш и белена

(4) Призыв Иегова

(5) Поганка

(6) Белый дуб

(7) Молох

(8) Корявая карга

(9) Черти-бесы

(10) Клич мене батько мухомором

(1) Es dämmerte im BaumstumpfBurg

(2) Ein gewöhnlicher Tag für kleine Männer

(3) Lasst uns höher steigen!

(4) Feierlichkeit

(5) Der Preis des Glücks

(6) Stolperte im Dunkeln

(2) Verbrechen-Aktion

(1) Rassenkrieg geht weiter....

(1) Krümme kleine Hände

(2) Пошире боков уж не раздуюсь

бедовая головешка

похороны в день рождения

эхо-диназавры

(1) Demo 2025-05-09 19_44.m4a

The night descends, a velvet drape,
With diamond stars in silent shape.
A vacant road, a lonely lane,
Where whispers rise and then wane.

Magic spills from starry skies,
A sweet escape behind my eyes.
Pills promise dreams, a false delight,
Lost in the darkness of the night.

The world dissolves, a hazy blur,
Reality's a distant stir.
Escapism calls, a siren's plea,
To flee the truth and just be free.

Magic spills from starry skies,
A sweet escape behind my eyes.
Pills promise dreams, a false delight,
Lost in the darkness of the night.

Derealization's chilling hand,
Transforms the world to shifting sand.
A fragile hope, a fading gleam,
Lost in this fabricated dream.

Magic spills from starry skies,
A sweet escape behind my eyes.
Pills promise dreams, a false delight,
Lost in the darkness of the night.

The stars still shine, a distant fire,
Fueling a desperate desire.
To break these chains, to find my way,
Back to the light of a brighter day

Derealization

Man-made front

Silver runes

исступление

838 23.m4a

Purple mist hangs low tonight,  
Dandelions whisper, soft and bright.  
Through the fields of emerald waves,  
We were kings in tiny caves.  

 
A ladder-nightstand by the bed,  
Stories woven in every thread.  
An ocean-blanket, warm and wide,  
Carried us on its patchwork tide.  


Oh, the rusty railroad sighs,  
Singing lullabies to the skies.  
Where the village lights grow small,  
And time forgets us after all.  

  
Freckled sun on splintered wood,  
Childhood dreams where we once stood.  
Grass-stained knees and firefly sparks,  
Fading slow in the gathering dark.  

 
Did the wind steal all our names?  
Or are they hiding in the train’s old frame?  
Underneath the iron and rain,  
I still hear them call again…  

  
Oh, the rusty railroad sighs,  
Singing lullabies to the skies.  
Where the village lights grow small,  
And time forgets us after all.  


Fog rolls in on quiet feet,  
Dandelion clocks—sweet, obsolete.  
The ladder waits, the rails remain,  
But we’re just echoes on the plain…

I want to be a child

44

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