There’s a celebration in the street But what are they celebrating? Oh, yeah, it’s like the day of the city The air is impregnated with the presence smell of these beasts Do you agree with this epithet? They are of other race They are not people Or just the contrary, they are people And I'm probably not What’s the time? It is obviously not morning But I will not leave my musty shelter I won’t merge with the crowd I won’t wait for the transport foolishly, I won’t go I will not wear the mask of normality, not today There’s a celebration in the streets It’s good that it’s autumn I can close the curtains I can kill the noise with blanket And will not hear the sounds from outside Soon they will begin to break each others empty heads Crud, stupid scumbags There’s the celebration in the street But I have more important things to do I have to choose the name for my conscious loneliness There’s a celebration in the street
