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#masks
1куплет Мы поднимаемся как птицы к небесам, Туда, где новый долг приуготован нам, Где, польза и добро сольют свои усилья, Утрачивая тень, я обретаю крылья! -И снова сцены, Наигранные драмы, Актёры по неволе мастера скрывать обманы, Всё новые сюжеты на сцене появляются, Всё новые актёры под масками скрываются, Посмотри, как рождаются, Сумасшедшие идеи, Мы маски одеваем, чужие роли играем, Свою судьбу, а чью-то ломаем, И кто назвал наш театр раем? Откуда мы порой убегаем, Глаза закрываем. - Но жизнь ценность приобретает, когда актёры по своим сценариям играют, Главные роли выбирают! Припев: Жизненные драмы, И роли по сценария, Кто руководит нашим сознанием, -с познанием, кто правит этой сценой?! Кто руководит судьбой, Ещё не поздно сменить свою роль! Начать новый бой! II куплет Эй, друзья театра! Что же будет завтра, Какую роль сыграем, Какие маски сейчас мы одеваем, Даже искрение чувства от друзей скрываем, Друг друга ложью, лицемерием питаем. И каждый знает, но продолжает играть И каждый день, Эту сцену всем придётся повторять, Любовь и та уже умеет по своим сценариям играть, - себя продавать строим иллюзии, что любим всё и всех, а за спиной не можем остановить свой смех!!! А в библии ведь сказано что это тоже грех! Вот занавес взвивается над нами, Лучшие актёры сейчас перед вами. Сами пишем сценарии в своём понимании, Искусно играем, Искусно скрываем от людей свои сердца, Главное доиграть свою роль до конца. Припев… ІІІ куплет Тяжело играть самого себя! Тяжелей складывать судьбу из поломанных дней, Рисовать одной и той же краской, Пара бы сбросить маски, И показать что внутри, Перешагнув через себя, мы продолжаем идти, Не знаю, как могут люди без стука в душу зайти, Чаще выбираю роль злодея, Не пытаясь выглядеть добрее, По смелее открываем новые двери, Меняем тысячи мнений, Пройдя сквозь стены сомнений, идём к заданной цели! Припев: Жизненные драмы, И роли по сценария, Кто руководит нашим сознанием, -с познанием, кто правит этой сценой?! Кто руководит судьбой, Ещё не поздно сменить свою роль! Начать новый бой!
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May 26
May 26, 2026 at 2:09 PM UTC
Taymay feat Klim - Actors
1куплет Мы поднимаемся как птицы к небесам, Туда, где новый долг приуготован нам, Где, польза и добро сольют свои усилья, Утрачивая тень, я обретаю крылья! -И снова сцены, Наигранные драмы, Актёры по неволе мастера скрывать обманы, Всё новые сюжеты на сцене появляются, Всё новые актёры под масками скрываются, Посмотри, как рождаются, Сумасшедшие идеи, Мы маски одеваем, чужие роли играем, Свою судьбу, а чью-то ломаем, И кто назвал наш театр раем? Откуда мы порой убегаем, Глаза закрываем. - Но жизнь ценность приобретает, когда актёры по своим сценариям играют, Главные роли выбирают! Припев: Жизненные драмы, И роли по сценария, Кто руководит нашим сознанием, -с познанием, кто правит этой сценой?! Кто руководит судьбой, Ещё не поздно сменить свою роль! Начать новый бой! II куплет Эй, друзья театра! Что же будет завтра, Какую роль сыграем, Какие маски сейчас мы одеваем, Даже искрение чувства от друзей скрываем, Друг друга ложью, лицемерием питаем. И каждый знает, но продолжает играть И каждый день, Эту сцену всем придётся повторять, Любовь и та уже умеет по своим сценариям играть, - себя продавать строим иллюзии, что любим всё и всех, а за спиной не можем остановить свой смех!!! А в библии ведь сказано что это тоже грех! Вот занавес взвивается над нами, Лучшие актёры сейчас перед вами. Сами пишем сценарии в своём понимании, Искусно играем, Искусно скрываем от людей свои сердца, Главное доиграть свою роль до конца. Припев… ІІІ куплет Тяжело играть самого себя! Тяжелей складывать судьбу из поломанных дней, Рисовать одной и той же краской, Пара бы сбросить маски, И показать что внутри, Перешагнув через себя, мы продолжаем идти, Не знаю, как могут люди без стука в душу зайти, Чаще выбираю роль злодея, Не пытаясь выглядеть добрее, По смелее открываем новые двери, Меняем тысячи мнений, Пройдя сквозь стены сомнений, идём к заданной цели! Припев: Жизненные драмы, И роли по сценария, Кто руководит нашим сознанием, -с познанием, кто правит этой сценой?! Кто руководит судьбой, Ещё не поздно сменить свою роль! Начать новый бой!
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Their faces concealed by pastes of varying colors, red, whites and blacks All of them following that vicious jack Such violent colors I see in my dreams And yet I cant help the screams The rules are falling apart And he thinks himself so smart what will happen when he fails? He'd still be praised When the beast appears Will he truly hit it with his spears? So I clutch the conch so dearly But I can't think clearly I try so hard But my lead is so quickly disregarded Jack thinks this fun! he thinks...its a game But I feel the flames The smoke was the beginning But now its everywhere suffocating Jack feels warmth I feel the burn And I discern We are two of a coin, never facing each other Almost like brothers Coming from the same spill The same thing that fills Floods the other One a nova Another a supernova One starting up one dying Why are you still lying? Blood hit the rock, and that was the moment I knew, you were the beast That's why you wanted a feast To keep us sated, to keep us down But in the end we all looked like clowns As we saw him, and his boat Freedom? Or another cage with a different beast?
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Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 3:32 PM UTC
The Masks.
The moving trucks pulled out of sight, A trail of dust in fading light. Boxes packed, goodbyes all said, Empty rooms inside her head. They thought she'd be alright, you see, A cheerful wave, "Don't worry me!" A smile she wore, a practiced art, To hide the ache within her heart. The playground swings stood still and bare, No laughter echoed in the air. Each passing day, a heavy stone, She walked the world, but felt alone. Beneath the surface, tears would flow, A secret garden, none would know. Her smile a mask, a fragile screen, Hiding worlds that might have been. The seasons turned, the years flew past, Her silent sorrow built to last. For though her lips might curve and play, Her friends were gone, so far away.
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Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 11:35 AM UTC
My story
Trapped inside Vanquished by the light Doomed to rot alone for eternity Neverending fears haunts my mind Dark enchantments keeps me alive I’m drowning in tears to cleanse the scars away Mending, but never healing This malice Tears me apart As life goes on I’m slowly sinking ever deeper into darkness Decaying on a throne of pain Frozen in time Deep down in the abyss They have come for me Faceless terrors Voices without words Venomous, chaining and enslaving -An endless battle of loss Maybe… I should end it all Yet I smile Like a gardener in its own garden My cage of thorns endures… The freakshow must go on.
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Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 9:13 AM UTC
The Masquerade
Stupendous ideas and inspiration filling the canvas with my brush To present it in front of the unknowing crowd watching with sorrow, courage or lush It is not the painting which the artist considers his exposition No, its the lies of which the viewer claims its meaning and conviction. To put on an act and say ‘Aye, keen eyes that is indeed as intended’ Agreeing with all of the interpretations, no matter how wild or splendid
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Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 10:00 PM UTC
The Artist, The Actor
Lies are not sweet poison— Their edges cut deeper… Like a needle piercing the heart, Tearing the soul apart. Their faces are so shameless—no lie can hide their ugliness. They’re fools who miss the meaning In life’s small, quiet threads. To them, a toy’s bright glitter Outshines all depth and grace. And truth? It loses meaning In their hollow, painted space. In their world of lies and flattery, No room for honest words. Their masks have grown into their skin. Now they cannot live Without those roles they play. Each step—a performance, Each day—a masquerade. But the play is almost over. The masks will turn to dust. And every soul is bound by law To become themselves—at last.
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Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 6:36 AM UTC
The Play of Life
are we truly real? two masks lost in a tango of lies unsaid and chains of shame are we truly free?
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Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 12:08 PM UTC
Free
The sound of laughter skims the water A faint remembrance A foggy crystal, chipped and sharp. A strong feeling. The grass sways; The masks we wore melted. A soul meeting its own, A crystal meeting its match.
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Jan 15
Jan 15, 2026 at 7:21 PM UTC
Melted
it's genuinely hard to love someone strapped down by numbness wondering if this is a life i want what are dreams and desires when i ache and reject your proposal? he's so sweet and neat tear into me like a piece of cloth needed to become someone's tourniquet i gorge on your blood until my nerves disconnect despair laps me up like warm milk and i am drowning in that pearly pool plagued by visions of my ****** tears outline me beautifully exactly how i imagined it to be who am i to justify the parasite feeding off of my existence? i'm afraid of my reflection she's the producer of the fake smile i want to pull out my veins and bundle them together for you: a bouquet disenchantment veils my fatigue so many voices and appearances my, the masks i got begin adhering to my skin it hurts to pull them off sometimes but i do what i must to preserve my identity.
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Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
IDENTITY
What are we left with when all our masks shatter? What does the mirror echo when our reflection seizes to exist? What does the soul hunger in the depths of an endless void? What does our root seek amidst the face of uncertainty? What does our sacral desire when meaning evaporates? What does our solar plexus requires in the loss of self? What does our heart longs for when it loses its rhythm? What does our throat scream when it is voiceless? What does our third eye still sees when we stitch it shut? What does our crown hold when we finally surrender?
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Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 10:29 PM UTC
In The Stillness
unassuming with many masks to wear too many people to be break away from the sense of duty you've come to know. "What lies underneath?"
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Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 3:06 PM UTC
Many Masks to Wear
The thick wall that kept rising, receding. The dense fog that kept clouding, thinning. The loud silence that kept ringing, quieting. The deep uncertainty that kept looming, fading. The endless panic that kept alarming, silencing. The fierce anxiety that kept suffocating, breathing. The lonely hate that kept restraining, releasing. The fiery anger that kept bubbling, calming. The dark shame that kept dragging, lifting. The grounded doubt that kept blinding, seeing. The aching envy that kept crippling, accepting. The jolted lust that kept begging, affirming. The beautiful vulnerability that kept coiling, unraveling. No longer lurking in the shadows of my soul, but co-existing in the light of my truth.
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Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 10:22 AM UTC
Shinning Shadows, Darkness Exposed
October burns in colours no other month can hold Leaves crack beneath my boots Each one a reminder that Endings can be beautiful Halloween grins on porches Plastic fangs and candle flames A carnival of shadows that feels more honest Than daylight ever does I love it for its strangeness For the way it makes the world admit That there’s something waiting in the dark And Samhain The air shifts The veil thins I light candles for the ones I miss Watch the smoke climb into night Like a message they might still read I don’t beg them back I just say "Thank you" Or that I still remember them This month is home The crunch of leaves The smell of smoke A carved pumpkin collapsing into itself While the flame inside refuses to die October is where I feel most alive Orange skies and black nights My body tuned to the hum of it I will not let you rush me past it In favor of tinsel and candy canes This is my season My altar of colour Bone And flame My love letter written in cider breath And the sound of footsteps in the dark October holds all of it The grief The joy The masks The monsters The ancestors The harvest The truth that nothing really leaves It only changes form And I would live here forever If the year would let me
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Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 12:45 PM UTC
Kindling
I'm afraid that someday I'll wake up broke again And you'll realize how Dull I really am Behind all my Shiny masks
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Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 1:07 PM UTC
Dull
We’re stronger together, Boy, girl, Man, woman Them, other... Why would you think you’re superior? Why would you think you’re spectacular? Our histories are woven, Whether we like it or not... There’s no time for malice that widens our rot - Because this is where they want you; under their thumb in their cot... But when you speak up, with nothing but the truth– they’re shot... And this is what we’ve got... Act now or flop... No time for comfort in your clan, Measure this wing span... We can still fly out of here if we want... Stop judgements based on immediate response... Or watch each other die, In sweltering springtime, spying through stick masks of spite...
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Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 4:00 PM UTC
Stick masks of spite
This... The shaking of a reed The movement of the water The flicking of a flame. This... The crying of a child The weariness of the labourer The burning skin from the sun. This... The racking pain of guilt The salty tears of loneliness The swan song of past glories. This... The masks of complacency The contracts of acceptance The closing of the mind. This... The continuing saga The words that fill the pages The lot in life we all share.
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Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 8:57 AM UTC
This...
These Barbie influencers — perfect plastic gods with ***** sculpted by scalpels and smiles so white they could blind heaven. Bodies built for the scroll. Attitudes sharper than jawlines, serving chaos and temptation on filtered silver plates — even Luzifer pauses and goes: “Whoa… chill.” But it’s all an act. A scream wrapped in selfies. They burn out like fireworks faking light in already lit rooms. Wearing so many fake-real-fake masks they forgot the shape of their own face. Nose fixed. Lips pumped. Ears clipped. Soul? Untraceable. And the crowd cheers. “Freedom!” While they’re chained to trends and trauma in silicone smiles. Think, world. Men, women, children with filters in their dreams — if you stripped the mask, the edits, the contour, the surgeon’s signature… not even a troll would want you for soup.
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Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 6:20 AM UTC
Fake Real Fake
The seats are empty; The theatre is dark; Why do you keep on acting? There’s no one keeping mark. Each step analyzed; Each line rehearsed; What tricks are you playing? Trapped in an eternal curse. These masks to hide fears; These laughs to contain sadness; Who are you when you’re not pretending? Careful not to thread into madness.
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Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 12:13 AM UTC
The Seats are Empty
Could I answer "who am I?" Even if I were to ask myself? I'd surely catch myself being something else Draped in some kind of forgotten lie I bend and split like beams of light Fractured through the prism of life My personality's gone under the knife I don't recognize myself, try as I might Maybe it's been too long to yearn For something that's too far gone to grasp So are these last year's only pointless laps? There's no familiar street for me to turn I'm lost amongst my many false faces And I can no longer find my own This is my cross to bear alone Falling out of my own graces ©2025
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Jun 7, 2025
Jun 7, 2025 at 1:19 AM UTC
~•§•~ A Falling Out of Sorts ~•§•~
🙏🏻 They feast with the wolves… Bark with with the dogs… Weep with the shepherds… Guests at every table, but a pillar at none. Call them seasonal? Situational? Maybe, Socially fluent? morally absent? Friends to everyone… and loyal to no one. ☝️
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May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 6:55 AM UTC
What do you call friends like that?
Let it go under. Neither the rowers are honest, nor the passengers loyal. Let it sink… For in this floating masquerade, drowning is the only honest act.
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May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 6:34 AM UTC
Let that Boat Sink
I am weird   Born weird   I am the only one who sees it?   Can I fake it?   Can I hide it? Everyone wears a mask. Some hide feelings,   Others hide desires. But mine...   Mine is different. It hides not what I feel,   Not what I want...   But who I am. To hide who I am:   Differently weird.
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May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025 at 9:43 PM UTC
Born weird pt III
Sew my ******* eyes open and never let me sleep. Watch until my blues run red                and you've           shown me what's                      to see. Tell the story of your golden crown, you platinum-plated **** Let me know how brazen trumpets sound                when filling up                      with spit. It's not enough to hate you. And it's not enough to cry. Crying havoc through your perfect teeth:       it's much worse than a lie.                           So lay me down on                         5th street train tracks                      where the old bums go to                                        die.                   Then roll out on your cart of                                 golden coin                          and break some toys. Play the game of pampered princes       painted like paupers and ****** Zip that costume up and hit the alleys.                 Catch a fix.      Or a "swift one off the wrist." Tug my bruising eyeballs out and lay me down to bed. Awake until the red turns black                and your            mouth starts spit-                -ting lead. Tell the story of your paper crown, you hollow-hearted **** Let you know how hunting hounds do howl       when crawling in              the muck.                        _"You ain't nothin' but an *******                      and _"I don't believe in nothin' you're                                   trying to prove."_ (The Falcon)
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Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 12:09 PM UTC
Gone Slummin'
Sew my ******* eyes open and never let me sleep. Watch until my blues run red                and you've           shown me what's                      to see. Tell the story of your golden crown, you platinum-plated **** Let me know how brazen trumpets sound                when filling up                      with spit. It's not enough to hate you. And it's not enough to cry. Crying havoc through your perfect teeth:       it's much worse than a lie.                           So lay me down on                         5th street train tracks                      where the old bums go to                                        die.                   Then roll out on your cart of                                 golden coin                          and break some toys. Play the game of pampered princes       painted like paupers and ****** Zip that costume up and hit the alleys.                 Catch a fix.      Or a "swift one off the wrist." Tug my bruising eyeballs out and lay me down to bed. Awake until the red turns black                and your            mouth starts spit-                -ting lead. Tell the story of your paper crown, you hollow-hearted **** Let you know how hunting hounds do howl       when crawling in              the muck.                        _"You ain't nothin' but an *******                      and _"I don't believe in nothin' you're                                   trying to prove."_ (The Falcon)
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a stop is called a cold drop to death        and clothe my eyes   squint tight then clear the screen     beam into another variant a **********   (with a new approach) broaching language            ( the previous dud          would never have dared ! ) caring less  with vicious rapping reinvent the day  from the perspective                                  of a new gimmy villain **** to the experience and bite barking             take two  you intolerable people                                 you intolerable world                                the intolerable harking                                   of the intolerable day
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Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 8:40 PM UTC
take two