ROT SORT

What is the purpose of living in a such crowded world,
When there is no one to whom you can give your own heart?
Even blood relatives can’t  save it from the bottomless hollow,
That is why to live in this lonely world seems so hard.
But what about stories and tales that we’ve been told?
I mean that love has a magical power, it wipes off your sorrow.
And you can be happy, doesn’t matter you’re fool or you’re smart,
The point is that you have a fire to follow…
 
But that’s just a couple of stories for na;ve young kids,
Who are not ready for taking this harsh cruel truth:
All those principals about kindness, respect and morality
Now are already gone, we have reached our meanness roof.
Who has such courage to do these all dirties-cutting off bits? 
I don’t want to see a bloody flesh of nowadays reality!
This smell of rot has impregnated us all, we are on the roof,
                And I wanna us meet face to face with our bitter fatality…