April's Page

I'm fully devoured by hate,
My mind has been brought to stagnation,
It's my unconceivable fate
To get slightly less estimation
Than sluts in a changeable guise
Or fools wasting time on careers.
Well, who is the one to despise:
A poet or one of those peers?
They fear the joys of today,
They fear the freedom addiction,
And I have no words left to say
When called a damn tough contradiction.

You're shallow as a pool of dirt,
In which your semi-force has drowned.
Your words are pointless and absurd;
You spread your helplessness around.
You hide behind your ego brand,
You contradict your each demand.

You're freedom-proof, yet still aware
Of all the grieves of your position.
Wipe out the rust of your despair -
Your brand is someone else's mission!
Your programmed life has gone astray,
Your days are like a failed replay.

You pray to angels with dirty wings,
Buy mercy and sell it,
Your rotten selfishness fucking stinks,
Dozens of cities smell it.
Your dirty sluts own golden cunts,
Justice smells just like dough,
Bribes, euro-bucks and some public stunts
At crusty First Channel's shows.

Your cash green eyes and your whiskey blood
Rule pointless decisions,
You, big knobs' dicks, are too deep in mud
Far beyond your own vision.
Newspapers vomit your ugly words,
Your promises are inflated,
The laws have turned into g… Continue

1. Romance Is Dead

A glass of cheap vodka tastes just like depression -
It hurts to be sober tonight.
The mirror reflects such a hideous expression
That I promptly turn off the light.
Some porno, then casual sex with my hand...
Oh damn! This is something I shouldn't have said.
Why don't you believe that I need no boyfriend -
No problems, no worries, no tears, no regret?

Romance is dead,
And so am I,
I can't forget
My perfect lie.
I still recall
The times we had.
Oh well, that's all.
Romance is… Continue

You can hear the completed version of the song here:
http://www.muziboo.com/April90/music/life-story

She's out in the rain, on the verge of despair.
The smoke is twirling in fresh autumn air,
Ten cigarettes stand for three-four minutes each.
She's waiting for him - he is out of reach.
At last he shows up: "Hey, I'm sorry I'm late",
She sighs with relief. What a wonderful date!
He looks like a tramp, and she looks like a whore.
A flawless match. They accept and adore
The real each other with no… Continue