Gentle Hints - The Bottom Line
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Gentle Hints - The Bottom Line
I’m letting myself fall apart for today,
The snow’s turned to black, the sunset is stolen.
With Lady Insomnia I’m forced to stay,
Resurrecting moments, while clock hands are frozen.
Every life has its pattern of roads,
Weaving either a carpet or towel.
No matter how bright the colour of nodes,
It’s always the same, the cruel final toll:
There is nothing left, except the art
Of deep-cut scars upon the heart...
The false news' noise... I just ignore,
It is all obvious, no more no few...
Tomorrow’s frame: the traffic's roar,
Tomorrow’s pain: to cloud up the view.
Every life has its pattern of roads,
Weaving either a carpet or towel.
No matter how bright the colour of nodes,
It’s always the same, the cruel final toll:
There is nothing left, except the art
Of deep-cut scars upon the heart...
Once again I feel a scent so fine
A taste of a past life… a déjà vu
Like balm for the heart, like chocolate divine
Sweetened my fate for a second or two
Every life has its pattern of roads,
Weaving either a carpet or towel.
No matter how bright the colour of nodes,
It’s always the same, the cruel final toll:
There is nothing left, except the art
Of deep-cut scars upon the heart...
Written by Vitaly Semenov, 2026
Gentle Hints - The Bottom Line
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