Текст песни Амулет - Крылатые стражи

Death rally from your lips
Twisted laugh,
I ruin my sleep,
But he stumbled on print
Old tales about birds,
What crawled at night
And while the sisters scream
Departing from the camps.

On the tops of the miracle-bird
Cook faith for tired
In the heat of the ancient songs
In the old copper kettle
This truth grab,
By changing the letters of life
Virgin, decrepit rags,
With the sky like roam.

He successfully landed
There's no heartbeat,
Who does not see or hear
Wise birds pecking at the crown.
Sisters know these secrets
And each has its own violin
And the beauty of each body
But all stinks grave ...