when all is said and done
and all has been resolved
there is the ease of resolution
no more tears to bawl

all is said and done
all the words were said
all the questions asked
all the pain been bled

now you go on living
get back to your life
pretend that nothing happened
ignore the scars, there was no knife

and when you think you’re able
when at last, you’re back to you
there is the faint remembering
you realise you’ve been lied to

the cuts were self inflicted
that’s what you’ve been told
the boiling water poured on you
had no intention to ever scold

but there was a knife and there was water
unfamiliar knife rack and a kettle
in your home they’re not, mental images
held by hands not yours, unsettle

it doesn’t matter anymore
not relevant the truth was spun
you’re meant to have moved on
when all is said and done

Maybe my heart
was born too small
for the love
it carries...

That's why it
shares it
just to
give itself
breathing
space

bury me alive, and let's just pretend it wasn't suicide
oh, you don't like me, well so do I — there's this ugly version
of myself that I can't deny, so to every girl I date, I always
pray you'll find a better guy

still, I fell in love with the rhythm of your eyes,
cos you always seem to view me as a better guy. to my
surprise, you give me reason to stay alive

but I always tell you not to read too deeply
on some of the things I say. darling I'm only human —
sometimes I make spelling errors, still was it a spell that
you fell in love with me?

      your purpose is love,
                 and I'll protect it with my life.

The broth is thin, the stakes are low,
The bottom’s near, and off we go.
Wax your skis, prepare to slide —
The abyss waits on every side.

But here’s the catch: the tale's the same
In bigger lands with grander names.
The broth turns sour, the rot sets in,
Most drink despair, a bitter sin.

Few will rise, resist the game,
In this grotesque world of shame.


In Russian:

Марионеточные режимы маленьких банановых псевдогосударственных образований

Уровень пониже,
Так как щи пожиже:
Дно всё ближе, ближе —
Навострить лишь лыжи.
Только вот проблема:
В б'ольших та же тема —
Щишки прокисают,
И дерьмо хлебает
Большинство народца.
Мало кто бороться
Может — мир уродцев.

bailing soat happily out to sea
glailing foat eating up my tea
So wherever it is that I may be
a goating boat is a sight to see!

I gave my
gut
a voice
it
gave me
cœur-
age

Tattoos and dyed hair.
They collect dust in your dreams.
Popularity plays a duet with loneliness.
Isolation surfs on sighs and smiles.
You pull out the car breaks of your bitterness.
There’s always one more wire that you missed.
Your castles fold into a cardboard box then it all collapses.
Popularity is an antique that’s broken.
You no longer want it fixed.
Where is the syringe of cringe when you need it?
Why do you not want attention anymore?
So now you know why your younger
self doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.
Goodbye.