Текст песни Николай Горшков - Клеймо

Black marker stigma
You draw on the cardboard.
You wonder - who is it?
Shaking your hand.
Maybe it's the sun circle
With spiny rays?
Maybe the image of those separations,
We laugh at us?
Can sketches of stars
At the time of their birth?
Maybe Paradise Drive?
Or the muse of inspiration?
The hand moves forward,
Not finding all places.
Marker for a calling.
Where? I do not know.

It is painful cut on the sheet
His wet paint.
Dipped into the darkness,
Like a fairy tale.
Black straight line
On the bright white background,
Like a steel ice-
I'll be buried
Terrible poignancy it
Eternally rusty blade.
What carries the stigma of yours,
I do not make it out, though sober.
Chaos on your eyes
It becomes creation.
Suddenly he was gone hladny fear -
He became awe.
In a dark room empty
Now lighted lamp
And drawing is not easy
Shining as a reward.

Mad creator
You've been dubbed the.
Art father
With shield and sword
The salvation given to us
From Gray Death
And the ghost of countries
Where there is no people.