Bound together just by one chain Наутилус

The law of silence blackens like soot,
I search for a hand, but an elbow is put.
I want to see eyes, but I find only stares,
Where legs climb higher than minds on the stairs,
And a crimson sunrise follows pink sunset flares. 

Here muscles grow weak and the spaces are wide,
Here trains were crushed to keep columns aligned.
Some thoughts are for home, and some words for the street,
And the eagles were traded for broiler hens’ meat,
And I am holding the line even kissing your cheek. 

One can believe even having no faith,
One can talk having nothing to say.
The poor keep praying that they may remain,
And their poverty will always stay. 

Here you can play your own trumpet inside,
But whatever you play, you retreat to one side.
And if someone joins you along the way,
Another will come to take you away. 

Here women keep searching until they retire,
Here work is assessed by just being tired.
Here villains don’t sit in their leather clad chairs,
The first and the last share the same weary stares,
Perhaps all worn down by the weight of the years.

All bound together just by one chain,
All shackled by a single old aim.