Cold and dead city, clock is four and it's Monday
Thousands of faces of gloomy and busy people
They all run somewhere, and a terrible rush of course!
They probably don't even know themselves what's the destination
I stop a passerby, I see one empty life
He hears but doesn't listen, watches but doesn't see anything
Hey just get hit by a car, they won't notice you anyway!
When nothing else interests, own navel is the whole world
I lose the face of a passerby in four o'clock traffic
I forget it instantly, we most likely won't see again!
I know that I don't belong here, among people who have died while standing!
I know one destination, no rush anywhere!