I circled the track for a week, I stand up again.
I straighten my clothes, I continue my journey downhill.
I draw air into my lungs, again through the filter.
My eyes blur, I continue my journey downhill.
Something is clear after all in this dark life of mine,
there is a bottle of Tallinn on the table and me under the table.
On the surface everything looks small and pretty and
on the bottom everything is much bigger, more beautiful, better.
Always sometimes on the surface I get up to gasp for air.
I pretend in vain, the chain pulls downhill.
They talk about drinking, they are never thirsty.
No Surface People can understand my journey downhill.
Something is bright in this dark of mine in life,
there is a bottle of Tallinn on the table and me under the table.
On the surface everything looks small and pretty and
on the bottom everything is much bigger, more beautiful, better.
On the surface, on the bottom, on the surface, to the bottom.
From the bottom everything is much bigger, more beautiful, and so..
From the surface everything looks small and pretty and
from the bottom everything is much bigger, more beautiful, better.
From the surface
From the bottom

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