I circeled the track for a week, I stand up again.
I straighten up my clothes, continue the way downhill.
I breath air to my lungs, again through a filter.
My eyes start to blur, continue the way downhill.
Something is bright at least in this dark life of mine,
there's a bottle from Tallinna on the table and me under the table.
From the surface everything looks small and pretty and from the bottom everything is much more larger, more beautiful, better.
Every once in a while I rise to the surface to get some air.
I pretend for nothing, the chain drags me downhill.
They talk about drinking, never about thirst.
The people of the surface can't understand my way downhill.
Something is bright at least in this dark life of mine,
there's a bottle from Tallinna on the table and me under the table.
From the surface everything looks small and pretty and from the bottom everything is much more larger, more beautiful, better.
From the surface, from the bottom, from the surface, to the bottom.
From the bottom everything is much more larger, more beautiful, and so...
From the surface everything looks small and pretty and from the bottom everything is much more larger, more beautiful, better.
From the surface
From the bottom