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I fuck on the conscience? It is this and remember,
The songs or drops that have actually
The pitiful share of you, drunk catch for palm
Thoughts about us-all utopia, which we family?

And I can not remember ..
Pathetic comics to wrap yourself in the hair
I am a prisoner of insomnia,
What heat? In me it was always cold.

About the great legends compose,
I am the truth of the syllable,
And the pathetic shreds of paper,
Silently absorb my every word.

And it can not withstand the onslaught of opinions,
After all, I always wanted to be rather than to seem
And where is all my inspiration,
What promised me success, not least escapes through your fingers.

And I'm still the same for them,
As a funny anecdote.
But I'm so sick of you must understand,
All ready to respond.

Years bear me on,
And in the background is not important conscience
People I already knew everything to me
And it would leave the most distant train.

Shooting stars,
I tried to make a wish
But pity anyone here.
They have so deftly able to deceive.