Chat Noir

Birds in Row

Unbearable vision of failure of the desperate sailors 
abandoned by the fortune of oil. Believe me, don't wait 
for a saviour. Here's your sheet-steel coffin, may you 
appreciate. Believe me, do not look for an answer. There 
are still shits coming before you pass away. And i can't 
bear this snow. And i can't bear this room. And i wish my 
feet would have never known the dark streets of Cottbus. 
End. Maybe we could dance and smile and figure out we're 
still alive, as if we're not leaving our dreams along 
this late highway. Maybe we could wait for some better 
skies to come and shine Over the tragedy we leave along 
white barricades. This was where we lived. This is where 
it ends. Common failure, common sailors. Abandonned by 
the fortune of oil.