BROKEN KIDS

It's not a secret for someone no more.

I didn't think about it before.

But where the beat was sound there's quiet now.

Observe day after day, you'll notice how

a squeal, a scream, a laugh becomes a sough*.

So, part with it, deal with it or deplore.

 

Chorus:

I say - sad sack*,

bring everything back! –

the streets are full of dolls.

Their eyes look past.

This wish is the last -

the magic petal falls.

 

Don't trust the words, the inner sense is true.

Every impact and lesion was accrue.

Most adults are just only broken kids.

Exhausted flowers always have bad seeds.

This is the main trouble of future breeds.

We turn into the hedge*, which they break through.

 

 

Zombie Apocalypse has already came in.

Meanwhile we were staring at the screen.

So search the losing verve in the refuse.

This is impossible to fix with nails and screws.

Tell me, who has the floret seven-hues*?

We must restore the world intact and clean.

 

 

Kids break their toys, and then they break themselves.

The whole world is bursting at the seams.

Can I fix it? Can I fix something else,

if I had to dispel my crumbled dreams?

 

* a sough - глубокий вздох

sad sack - растяпа, неумеха

the hedge - живая изгородь

the floret seven-hues - цветик-семицветик