Всем нам даёт силы одно и то же: вера в человеческую натуру, справедливость и равенство... Всё, что у нас есть - вера, что ведёт нас. Незначительно то изменение, когда наше голосование становится простой формальностью, и наши повелители и хозяева низвергают нас до ролей рабов и невольников во имя новой империи.
Да, и каждый кровавый император требует, чтобы свобода была его личным делом, когда он вбивает свое всеобщее прикосновение как экстренные параграфы.
К народам народы обращаются на языке канавы; обменянные инсульты в прайм-тайм на импульсы империи простираются через экраны. Истина повержена на колени; ложь внедрена беспредельно, и пока эти повторения не станут официальной доктриной, мы - предатели неверия. С каким же бессилием мы горюем о демократическом процессе, пока наши славные лидеры тайно договариваются накормить нас последними остатками диктаторского презрения во имя новой империи.
Да, и каждый кровавый император тянет свои руки к юбке истории, когда позирует для потомства, стоя на свежевыкопанной грязи. Да, и каждый кровавый император с мерзкой ухмылкой на губах говорит о своем способе выхода из положения почти что попало, но ложь - внутри, потому что каждый кровавый император думает, что его право управлять - свято, так что он будет изворачиваться и изворачиваться, и изворачиваться до своего конца.
Незначительно то изменение, когда один за одним наши голоса затихают, и двойные стандарты пропаганды сковывают весь наш праведный гнев.
Всем нам даёт силы одно и то же: вера в человеческую натуру. Но наша вера исчезает - с приближением к финишу, мы - всего лишь рабы и невольники в тот момент, когда империя рушится.
Every Bloody Emperor
By this we are all sustained: a belief in human nature and in justice and parity...all we have is the faith to carry on.
Imperceptible the change as our votes become mere gestures and our lords and masters determine to cast us in the roles of serfs and slaves in the new empire's name.
Yes and every bloody emperor claims that freedom is his cause as he buffs up on his common touch as a get-out clause.
Unto nations nations speak in the language of the gutter; trading primetime insults the imperial impulse extends across the screen. Truth's been beaten to its knees; the lies embed ad infinitum till their repetition becomes a dictum we're traitors to disbelieve. With what impotence we grieve for the democratic process as our glorious leaders conspire to feed us the last dregs of imperious disdain in the new empire's name.
Yes and every bloody emperor's got his hands up history's skirt as he poses for posterity over the fresh-dug dirt. Yes and every bloody emperor with his sickly rictus grin talks his way out of nearly anything but the lie within because every bloody emperor thinks his right to rule divine so he'll go spinning and spinning and spinning into his own decline.
Imperceptible the change as one by one our voices falter and the double standards of propaganda still all our righteous rage.
By this we are all sustained: our belief in human nature. But our faith diminishes - close to the finish, we're only serfs and slaves as the empire decays. All of us are given the same strength: faith in human nature, justice and equality ... All that we have is faith that leads us. Slightly that change, when our vote becomes a mere formality, and our rulers and masters overthrow us to the roles of slaves and slaves in the name of a new empire.
Yes, and every bloody emperor demands, that freedom was his personal business, when he drives his universal touch as an emergency paragraph.
People turn to peoples in the language of a ditch; interchanged stroke in prime time on the impulses of the empire extend through screens. The truth is thrown to its knees; lies are unlimitedly introduced, and until these repetitions become official doctrine, we are traitors of unbelief. With what powerlessness do we grieve about the democratic process, while our glorious leaders secretly agree to feed us the last remnants of dictatorial contempt in the name of a new empire.
Yes, and every bloody emperor pulls his hands to the skirt of history, when posing for posterity, standing on freshly dirty mud. Yes, and every bloody emperor with a nasty smirk on his lips talks about his way out of the situation almost horrible, but the lie is inside, because every bloody emperor thinks that his right to rule is holy, so that he will dodge and dodge, and dodge to the end.
Slightly that change, when one by one our voices fade, and double standards of propaganda fetter all our righteous anger.
All of us are given the same strength: faith in human nature. But our faith disappears - with the approach to the finish, we are but slaves and slaves at a time when the empire is collapsing.
Every Bloody Emperor
By this we are all sustained: a belief in human nature and in justice and parity ... all we have is the faith to carry on.
Imperceptible the change as our votes become mere gestures and our lords and masters in the roles of serfs and slaves in the new empire's name.
Yes and every bloody emperor's claims that freedom is his cause as he buffs up on his common touch as a get-out clause.
Unto the nations, speak in the language of the gutter; trading primetime insults the imperial impulse extends across the screen. Truth's been beaten to its knees; the lies embed ad infinitum till their repetition becomes a dictum we're traitors to disbelieve. With what impotence we grieve for the democratic process as our glorious leaders the last dregs of the imperious disdain in the new empire's name.
Yes and every bloody emperor's got his hands up history's skirt as he poses for posterity. Yes and every bloody emperor with his sickly rictus grin talks his way out of almost anything because every bloody emperor so he'll go spinning and spinning and spinning into his own decline.
Imperceptible the change as one by one our voices falter and the double standards of propaganda still all our righteous rage.
By this we are all sustained: our belief in human nature. But our faith diminishes - close to the finish, we're only serfs and slaves as the empire decays.