Текст песни Дейта Мейра - Полынь-Трава

Wormwood-Grass

Night on the decline of illusionist
He looks in the eye, how to hide our shame?
Placebo takeaway in suicide club.
How difficult is the way it is on the head.
And God forgive me that I - conformist.

I ask you not to touch the painting hands
The thread is torn - down fell beads.
She's at the window with a small volume of Murakami.
It is the rain of melancholy blues.
They even have to face sometimes fools.

What are you silent drum revolver?
What is learned in the night the window sill?
Her gramophone sang in the darkness Habanera.
He learned quiet buildings.
The next morning it was snowing, their bodies taken away gandolery.

Artemisia-grass.

(14.05.2009)