There is no warmth here, either it gets dark over the head
Or a boot shines over it
But the ending is near and pushing from these little legs
That the Earth sphere turns, this way butterfly children get born
To find the end (where?)
They all hang next to each other and scream from diseases
The one who sang songs, that's the one who is crucified
Even the sky is rotting and looks like it is stained with mold
But one is able to take this immense world into [insect] arms
One small human hid everything from us and now wait for your secret
He will reveal it to everyone only when he helps himself grow insect wings
He must, so that it's painful
But how to not wail and cry?
The more happiness to the worms, the uglier the butterfly children
And there is a flaw again in the cocoons
And my precession marches
Life is only a phenomenon, death is only a process
I will also hide everything in the cocoon, just so that it grows
But you will see a question in it easily: "Ugliness or brotherhood?"
And there will be no choice but to accept it
There is no warmth here, either it gets dark over the head
Or a boot shines over it
But the ending is near and pushing from these little legs
That the Earth sphere turns, this way butterfly children get born
(Butterfly children get born)
There is no warmth here, either it gets dark over the head
Or a boot shines over it
But the ending is near and pushing from these little legs
That the Earth sphere turns, this way butterfly children get born
(Butterfly children get born)
My precession marches, life is only a phenomenon
Death is only a process, and I will bet everything on even-odd
Of one accidental mutation, shedding tears or burning?
Thus marches my nutation, small grasshopper-human
He searches for a sword, but has nothing here to hold the blow
And to not let the whole immense world to lay on small shoulders
And almost like a small nail into the palm, he hammered a toothpick into his wing
But how to get it out now?
In a way that wouldn't tear it off to hell
But this time around in whose mouth the butterfly drowns, kicking in heavy saliva
It's definitely doomed but I swear that's not the case at all
So it looks like everything gets forgiven to us in the emptiness
Thus the Earth sphere turns and my precession marches
Life is only a phenomenon, death is only a process
And I am the bug that defeated the boot
Because there is no warmth, the colder it is in the cocoon
The more beautiful the butterfly children, so - put out the fire
There is no warmth here, either it gets dark over the head
Or a boot shines over it
But the ending is near and pushing from these little legs
That the Earth sphere turns, this way butterfly children get born (x4)