There’s a celebration in the street
But what are they celebrating?
Oh, yeah, it’s like the day of the city
The air is impregnated with the presence smell of these beasts
Do you agree with this epithet?
They are of other race
They are not people
Or just the contrary, they are people
And I'm probably not
What’s the time?
It is obviously not morning
But I will not leave my musty shelter
I won’t merge with the crowd
I won’t wait for the transport foolishly, I won’t go
I will not wear the mask of normality, not today
There’s a celebration in the streets
It’s good that it’s autumn
I can close the curtains
I can kill the noise with blanket
And will not hear the sounds from outside
Soon they will begin to break each others empty heads
Crud, stupid scumbags
There’s the celebration in the street
But I have more important things to do
I have to choose the name for my conscious loneliness
There’s a celebration in the street