Текст песни Медиана - Дамблдор

On the line, on the hook, clinging to the mask,
Depicting longing with facial expressions and gestures,
You fish with a profit fairy tale-weasel,
Then putting a stick to the temple.
Sometimes giving hints and tips
You cook people in your own juice.

And again, going beyond the boundaries of the book,
Weave plans, intrigues in life.
Your move and you move the correct piece.
As in the palm of a small fish-people.

It's so simple .. Flash - and there is no boy.
It hurts so much .. Flash - and no sister.
Flash - and soon the end of the game ..