Хочу дождя... в воскресенье..
Life is a field, of broken dreams;
its farmers blind, and deaf to screams,
whose hideous faces,; mean and cold,
express their stories... over told.
They change, translate, deceive, mutate...
through one, same, different, sorry state.
Each monster's cold, the vicious kind,
while wheel still turns... blind lead the blind.
Strong beat the weak, and show their power,
's each try to climb their sand-built tower,
and those who stop, reflect and think,
watch life slip by... a swift, smooth blink.
а музыка звучит: Мадонна "Rain"