Текст песни Марк Мерман - Смерть пьёт не из бокала...

He doesn’t drink death from a glass - from a soldier’s flask
Unscrew the cork famously, as his head rolls.
Springs and whispers - circles of a hellish machine,
And the medicine needles are ready in advance.

Here it rolls, it’s pulled into the fabric,
glade - along and across
But the play is not prolonged - it ends already
Like a gun fail-safe, that one-act play
The smoke curtain is cunning and the curtain is already ...

And skulls to shards
Teter all in loss
And the margins of error on each side
And the generals are bold - they are from infantry,
A whisper from the evil one - about desertion!

And the sky is like a harrow
crows plow wings
So that heaven rest in peace - Hurray, Hurray !!! - damage ...
Where are you defeated? - on all four sides
Where are you winners? - but there are no parties for you!

Drummers sweat, drums full of holes
And death will twist the cork, wait a bit:
At winter, the bath attendants will flock in apartments
In summer, the mole will flock to apartments ...