Текст песни Прасковья Неазовская - Дюма

I do not have strength to fight, bad luck
All nights either to hell, all plans for wind
Passed days sword and honest crying
That's just Shakespeare did not answer the question

Left as a reward broken heart
And thoughts about life sound doomed
From my own truth I have nowhere to go
I'm so regretting the other saved

Let I be cursed, oh in anger impantit
My outlines are brought to dust
The poker of desires in the graves
Dreams were dissolved in wine, as if sugar

Not rash salt on the wound, my lacrimose
Your smell and image of debunking everywhere
I am alone here, word in the field Mimosa
And I can hope the miracle

You are always faithful, you
With you to the last edge
When everyone I am expensive - you are unrivalent to you
I do not have strength to fight ... Good luck is bad.