The Son of Man, where are you,
Tell me one more time,
Tell me straightforward who we are now,
Tell me truthfully where we are at present.
As I thought, everything would be honest,
A silk scarf onto the helmet,
But this is a battle with the doors closed,
The fight of the life with hell knows what.
And someone considers that this is a trick,
And someone is shouting it's a failure.
And each word is a sign of that we're
In the room deprived of mirrors.
Today I saw an angel in my dream
Looking like Bruce Lee,
He was bringing me the cleaning liquid for brains,
A glass of port for the lords of the earth.
But I was wise and light,
I took the work seriously,
And I died choosing the answer,
Though no one asked me the question,
And my friend Lensky at the beer kiosk
Was regretting that a liter is so small,
And the queue in chorus was reading the rhymes
About the room deprived of mirrors.
All of us were taught to look not upwards, but to look forward with love,
But love shoots out of both bores as soon as you're ready for a take-off.
And maybe indeed it's worth trying
To fall for one of those noble damsels
Who would stick a feather under your ribs
To make thinking about birds more visual,
But if I were you I would send them all
To the shooting of the scene about the first ball,
And would myself be laughing on the other side of the glass
Of the room deprived of mirrors.
The blacks have got a sense of rhythm,
The whites have got a feeling of guilt,
But there are the thirds, without any identifying marks,
Who look at the ladies only below the back.
But I was not counted, I saw it from aside.
It's strange for me to serve as a lover of muses
Sterilized in the process of the war
In which it's the one dead beforehand who survived,
And the one is the winner who did not raise.
And only the heroes are taking off the make up with the rasp
From the room deprived of mirrors.
So there are two occupations
Worthy of those who are above the zero-
Selling pictures with a view to the beach,
Or a wild scream-helm to the right,
So it means I've been written off as dead,
And I'm supposed to be done with,
But I am grateful to those who were shooting at me,
Now I know what lead is like,
And someone is laughing like a silver beast
Looking into the crowded hall,
And I am just here,
I'm just celebrating the dream
About the room deprived of mirrors.
