Текст песни Лора Бочарова - Монолог профессора Снейпа

Cold snowflakes burn your cheeks
And a lot of rubbish stuck to the conscience.
Burns to a charred heart
I didn't think it was still possible to hurt me

Another Christmas Eve at the empty school.
It's better to go home to the slums.
There again lies and dirt, where without them. Still would:
Dangerous work, test of will.

And here is the familiar world for those we teach,
Deceiving peace among paintings and armchairs.
And my ridiculous argument with that lucky kid
Are you jealous of him, professor?

Oh, how this new genius pisses me off!
Me, who can be like ice, impassive
Who knows how to keep a quiet class in power
And how in a cauldron of evil do not let the foam rise.

One for him is that a potion, that a poison,
He sees not a damn thing in the sky beyond the snitch
But what the poorest of all has the right
The puppy is the one to judge and hate me!

But if he really reaches the highest goal,
To a trashy student and someone else's son
In a dashing battle, I will uncomplainingly cover my back,
Well! I am alone to die in bed.

Only my past is a hunted teenager
With whom you equal me now do not dare!
Will secretly ask for our magic angels
About a moment of beauty five minutes before death.

So that the stick is like a sword, an extension of the brush,
To extract the righteous fire in the last gesture
And all the insults, humiliations, dishonor
Burned out like a textbook with mirages of truths.

And tomorrow and before the holidays again lessons
Not all of us choose students to our liking.
Cold snowflakes burn your cheeks
Unripe germ poison is stored by dry herbs