When the sky is pale
And things seem gray
You try to smile and think of what to obey,
If there`s no sun above our heads,
Let`s find other shining threads.
When we`re drinking our fifth cup of coffee, waiting,
Staying awake, though our lids are falling,
You tell me of an artist,
A real painter or a storyteller.
When surroundings are boring
And your eyes are snoaring
We are going to find a bullet, those hidden sparks,
We will deny the essence of our weakened guns.