Текст песни Шмели - 05 Как На Плахе Святой

A dream like him in a dead house
Perverted love behind the drawn curtains
The door creaked like a meningitis cry
The air trembled like a mad executioner ...

We drink wine and have a bite of souls
We cut the glass with bloodied fingers.

Like a saint crying for passion on a block,
How the flesh was pulled on a rotten cross,
As in the dungeon of damp grass the quinoa sprouted ...

A moan like a howl from a dungeon
Dead cold caresses eternity
Tragedy is like life before death
Flawlessness will break into the abyss of the world ...

We drink wine and have a bite of souls
We cut the glass with bloodied fingers.

Like a saint crying for passion on a block,
How the flesh was pulled on a rotten cross,
As in the dungeon of damp grass the quinoa sprouted ...

We drink wine and have a bite of souls
We cut the glass with bloodied fingers.

Like a saint crying for passion on a block,
How the flesh was pulled on a rotten cross,
As in the dungeon of damp grass the quinoa sprouted ...

We drink wine and have a bite of thoughts ...