Kynnet, kynnet [English translation]

If we were a legion,

In a rental (city) block,

that kind of a semi-Rome,

but piss (/ urine) in the snorkel.

From somewhere we would come up with a mutual agenda.

Words as a weapon, just fighting with sentences.

If we could give away, but not give up.

Lets be those good guys, who become drunk on power.

Give away, except the clothes that we are wearing.

A plentiful setting (1), the cliff rolls you upwards.

A terrible crisis, one belly sausage (2).

Even now the heat is annoying, here on the Artek (3) stool.

You have the looks, a phone and flights (bought) with one hundred.

But these weird human beings are scary (/ scaring me).

If we were a meta cock fight club, would we get self-esteem?

Would we find places in world, would we nurse ourselves back into health?

I don't fit in, (that's) weird, something is missing, my grip is slipping.

I can't grip it without claws.

For a moment they are insecure, they are lonely.

Just a feeling combines us, that we don't exist.

Claws, claws. Claws, claws. Claws, claws.

A weak person finds another weak person guilty.

No poor knights (4) to the round table.

Who has now taken our manhood?

Not doing anything even though should (5), and with ducts blocked.

There is no room for us in the survival mode.

I, I, I ruin the climate of others.

There is no left-right-horizon.

Only the disappointed ones, that hope for renovation.

There would be love, but no means (/ way) to express it.

Fazer blue for the feminists (6).

The silence of the potential and potency.

Feeding the subject with Fazer blue.

It is already autumn now.

I can't do the salty liquorice of the goods market.

Kick last of the street lights into darkness.

Finish the roleplay which you started.

I don't fit in, (that's) weird, something is missing, my grip is slipping.

I can't grip it without claws.

For a moment they are insecure, they are lonely.

Just a feeling combines us, that we don't exist.

Claws, claws. Claws, claws. Claws, claws.

I can't grip it without claws.

Claws, claws. Claws, claws. Claws, claws.

Well then, it will turn into joy, they told us.

But life, however, wasn't exactly a piece of Kake Randellin (7).

But we can't just burrow ourselves into the bunker of our own thoughts.

And imagine in our minds what could I do then.

If everything would be differently.

I don't fit in, (that's) weird, something is missing, my grip is slipping.

I can't grip it without claws.

For a moment they are insecure, they are lonely.

Just a feeling combines us, that we don't exist.

Claws, claws. Claws, claws. Claws, claws.

I can't grip it without claws.

Claws, claws. Claws, claws. Claws, claws.

We don't exist.