If the clouds tell the truth,
If the clouds tell the truth,
If the clouds tell the truth...
If the moon tells the truth, it sees his long shadow hatching
from the mist when he walks in the middle of the night home-stretching.
He is on every street and nowhere, or are there many?
Dust of roads keeps prints but on one there aren't any,
London Bombay...
If the water is right, it washes away the greasepaint,
tired greasepaint of bronze, and blood stunning in a dead faint
changes shape into ice and melts in a glass of whiskey
and pretending it's ink collates in his records risky;
London Bombay...
If the fire is right, they've eaten a peck of niter.
It burns him overnight when downpours can't be mightier
and along with the moon while the minaret stays quiet
changes temper to smoke and water falls yet to wipe it;
London Bombay...
If the clouds tell the truth,
searing snows give a proof,
he came from another land.
If the clouds tell the truth,
searing snows give a proof,
calm and cold is his hand.
Original: www.flashlyrics.com/lyrics/zorge/если-верить-облакам-44
Original/audio: soundcloud.com/zzzorge/zorge-esli?in=zzzorge/sets/zorge-2011