Gray dawn, ash on eyelashes,
The day has woken up, but there is no light.
Breathing in the face, mercilessly and strangely.
The machines groan and growl,
In unison with the soul, which screams into the abyss.
Each blow is like a hammer on hope,
The future is only a shadow, which was in the heart before.
Depressive day.
Breathing in fumes.
The road to nowhere, asphalt and dust,
My path lies where there is emptiness.
Only the roar of factories, ringing in my ears,
And the coming darkness, protecting my soul.
There is no light at the end, only cold and fog,
My day is depression, my world is a deception.
Factory chimneys, sticking out like fingers into the sky,
And their black smoke, will not break through to the stars.
It presses down, on the mind, on the consciousness,
Captive of concrete, in eternal expectation.
Waiting for what?
I don't know myself.
Only the echo of footsteps in empty courtyards.
And every sound is like a harsh sentence,
That my life is just a silent, silent path.
Depressive day.
Breathing in fumes.
A road to nowhere, asphalt and dust,
My path lies where there is emptiness.
Only the roar of factories, rings in my ears,
And the coming darkness, protects my soul.
There is no light at the end, only cold and fog,
My day is depression, my world is a deception.
I see faces distorted by anxiety,
Walking side by side, on the same road.
We are all particles in this mechanism,
Forgotten, lost in cynicism.
And every breath is like an exhalation from a machine,
Which will soon stop, for no reason.
Depressive day.
Breathing in fumes.
The road to nowhere, asphalt and dust,
My path lies where there is emptiness.
Only the roar of factories, rings in my ears,
And the coming darkness, protects my soul.
There is no light at the end, only cold and fog,
My day is depression, my world is a deception.
The darkness of the factory... the noise of machines...
The future is emptiness... the road to nowhere...
And only an echo... in the silence...
My day... depressive... in me...