Текст песни мира - Путь

The wall of the wall clock seems to the smoke of a young fire,
Rises up, the ship is broken down by life.
Soon the steps on the road will spread out ... I
For you, I will go through the tomb strips of plates.

Nothing never goes without a trace and away
As if the right to life possesses the past days.
When the eyes narrow the horizon of irrigated soils -
in the velvet of the first colors
There will be your feet shoes.

Ahead is a stack of books with a series of unaccomplished chapters.
In the mascara feather silence and go, while you can go.
When the path will lead to the fields of malachite herbs -
bright birds
Couch
in your
chest.