TATITERA — Ночь, улица, фонарь, аптека

Night, street, lamp, drugstore

Night, street, lamp, drugstore, A senseless and dim light. Live another quarter-century — It will all be the same. There is no way out.

You die — you start again from the beginning And everything repeats as of old: Night, the icy ripple of the canal, Drugstore, street, lamp.

You look for an exit — it can’t be seen. You look for meaning — it’s between the lines. Everything that seemed insulting to you Is only a reflection of your roads.

It’s not about the light — it’s only a witness. Not in this night and not in fate. You walk in circles as if you were the wind. But the circle closed inside yourself.

Where is the end? What will not be? I’m so tired. You are your own judge. This is a trap. It’s only people Building their edges out of thoughts.

I saw the morning, but in it everything’s the same: The same shop windows, the same asphalt. And every step looks like another, And every chance turns into a fake.

As if time is standing still. As if the world is an old dream. And even the heart beats without news, Like a metronome under someone else’s law.

But if you can turn off the road Where everything is scheduled ahead — You’ll suddenly hear: it’s not so strict, And another light will call you.

Your freedom is not in this circle. Your outcome is not in repetitions. You are both prison and key to yourself — The one who will one day open the lock.

Night. Street. But there is dawn. Lamp. Drugstore. But there is an answer. And if the circle closed somewhere — Unravel it inside yourself. And where there was no answer, A new dawn will be born.