More songs by BIG SPECIAL
Description
The world is smoking again - not from romance, but from the habit of burning. Everything around seems to be recycling the apocalypse: the sun sets, children turn away, old stories of war return with new captions. And in this chaos, there is no cry, but a calm, measured “another war” - as if it were weather news.
Sarcasm here is not a defense, but a way to survive. Each line is like a blow to the keys of an old piano: harsh, but melodic. The air is heavy, time is devalued, conscience is on the cash register receipt. And yet inside there is a strange liveliness, like a spark under a layer of ash. Because despite the dust, smoke, and fatigue, someone still asks, “Don't you care at all?”
Lyrics and translation
Original
The smoke unsheathes the city. Our kids will ignore the setting sun.
Another plaintive native that bleeds the blood of everyone. The bell awoke the city.
Our kids will turn from the rising sun.
Another plaintive native sings into a smoking gun. War, it's just another war.
Best get out our pens and heave the holy oar for the times we're living in. Bring wisdom to the rich, a respite to the poor.
With the bird of virtue and its skillful signal. Time, heavier than gold.
Looks like the bomb is back. Heard memories from my dad, and he's not that old.
The future's at the sack, the receipts have been sold.
Looks like the bomb is back, so you best be free of bollocks. The sun is ever setting.
Let there be crust.
The bellies are full and take the change out, make us rust. Feel the kiss from my lungs.
Hear the curse through the dust. Feel the kiss from my lungs.
Hear the curse through the dust.
What do you care about?
What are you able to care about?
What are you allowed to care about?
What are you forced to care about?
-Do you even care? -The sun is ever setting.
Let there be crust.
The bellies are full and take the change out, make us rust. Feel the kiss from my lungs.
Hear the curse through the dust. Feel the kiss from my lungs. Hear the curse through the dust.
The sun is ever setting.
Let there be crust.
The bellies are full and take the change out, make us rust. Feel the kiss from my lungs. War, it's just another war.
Best get out our pens and heave the holy oar for the times we're living in.
Bring wisdom to the rich, a respite to the poor.
With the bird of virtue and its skillful signal. Time, heavier than gold. Looks like the bomb is back.
Heard memories from my dad, and he's not that old.
The future's at the sack, the receipts have been sold. Looks like the bomb is back, so you best be free of bollocks.
The smoke unsheathes the city. Our kids will ignore the setting sun.
Another plaintive native that bleeds the blood of everyone. The bell awoke the city.
Our kids will turn from the rising sun. Another plaintive native sings into a smoking gun