Why it seems so inviting ?
The world of genuine values,
Prominent talents and genius
"Creative Power" it's so mighty…
Hypothetical sin that fills you
Like salt fills the sores
You're not worth a curse
There's no easy way in,
No opened doors

You'll never fit in
There's no entrance for you
You have nothing to do
Brain drain binding you to…
Make an inroad,
To use the decline
And "Yours is mine"
That is your mode

Oh, it's so sad
You ain't able to create,
Oh, it's so fun
But nothing could be done

You'll never escape
There's no exit for you
You have nothing to do
Ties of despair
Binding you to…
Be an eloquent person,
To follow your guiding force
Misunderstanding the meaning
Of words
There's no easy way out
No opened doors

It seems like delusion
Haunting me every day
There is mysterious fusion
Inside me… Mind astray !
Oh, I feel like pack of cards
I was made of few
Contradictory parts

First part says:
"Let your convictions rot !"
Second part says :
"Do not !"
Someone says :
"Ignore the truth"
Someone says :
"Listen to your muse"

Sick and tired of eternal confrontation
Don't want hear anymore useless conversations
I'm just a third half
Of myself
Starting study
My own body
Falling to pieces
By kicks and kisses
I have no power
I'm hero and I'm coward

Multiplicity, the gallery of faces
On the run all the days, from sixes to aces
My ingenuity
And imagination
Take priority
Over reputation
My second part
Dislikes this way
Misgivings keep
Running through my veins…

First half screams
Brings me to the boil
Gathering and
Storing up the spoils
Second half sings
Rights all the wrongs
And I can hear
These graceful songs

[Instrumental]

Reject point-blank,
So now we got some peace
In damaged structures
Of the conscious maze
Inaccessible hyper realism
Teaches to play
These primitive games
An innerworld presence,
What a pleasant scene
Waiting for wisdom from above
External sign
Of internal discipline
Waiting for mercy and even love.

Futile season,
The reason is in the prison
It's primitive captivity
Futile season,
The reason is the prison
Escape from primitivity

Inopportune criticism and witticism
Gets off the point
Sophisticated primitive art forms
And life coil is out of joint
Adequate evaluation of sane views,
Animosity
Artistic cobweb strives to confuse
We're lost in the style diversity

Walking through the streets plexus
The air smells like plethoric fantasies
Esplanades are littered with debris
Streets are filled with eclectic melodies
Looking forward, moving straight ahead
Old diary pages in hand
Moving silent through the city of mind
That shows its dirty seamy side

There is something stronger than him…

The only thing that keeps him going
Is the fact that he could stop someday
Turn these hateful streets to ruins
Now he sees his only way

Keeping the silence,
Thinking aloud
Multiform thoughts
Like furious crowd
No changes
In distant perspective
To destroy all around
It is only objective
Poet is in the gripe
Of the pages
Dancers are trapped
In the rib cages
Broken strings
Sound like desperate cries
And city stares into his tired eyes…

There is something stronger than him…

I have secretly dreamt
Of wearing my skin
With nothing underneath
To be consciousless and soulfired
To have no useless doubt and fear inside
Playing carefully, living in safety
Building the fortress of new personality
Fulfilling the selfish fantasy
So beautifully

Look at me, gaze into the unknown
My facial gesture is carved in stone
And helpless world doesn't even dare
To turn away from my cold stare
Blind window eyes on the face
Toothless mouth of opened gates
Rain tears on the walls-cheeks
Cynical notions look like pile of bricks

I move my mind in million directions
At the same time
Like multi-headed beast
I can control the west
When I look to the east
My blind window eye
Is searching low and searching high
Watching the every move
Of all the passers-by

Blind windows stare…

[Instrumental]

How can you call yourself a genius ?
Your confidence provokes my doubt.
You turn my notions all inside out.
Misleading pun…
So miscellaneous…

Jeer…
The logic knot defies solution,
The masterpiece that you ignore…
Lampoon…
From academic and classical to folk-lore
World art in material sphere,
From positive image to its primitive forms -
"Creative Grotesque".
It's so weird for you and too late to revise
The outdated views…

Looking through a prism of practical criticism,
Your position is just a fake, last attempt to not make mistake.

Looking through a prism of practical criticism,
Your position is just a fake, better way to make mistake.

Prejudiced critic,
Not so brave,
Refuses to notice
Somebody else's success
A free artist
Or "Mental Labour Slave" ?
Vicious criticism
And moral regress… Jeer…

Activity,
Constructive unrest,
Gobal design,
Inspiration is evil jest.
Absolutely zero is everything you wrote,
You have no poison,
But you have antidote.

[Instrumental]

Anatomical landscape, atomized
Unstable in shape, human body sized
Heart sends impulse from your tectonic depths
Playing yourself false
You forced to hold your breath

Heartbeat seismology
Rhythmic unison of six billion hearts
Ant-hill psychology
World wreckers
From house of cards

Sow the systolic seeds
Synchronize the thoughts and deeds
Oscillation frequency, crust break
Awake the bodyquake.