Текст песни Сергей Шилин - Сказочник

At the crossroads of the Fate, a postponed hour,
At stop life do not live
With those who are from prayers and thousands of phrases
Needless did not have time to fastened

Doors shuts his hand drunk
Falate from the palace of lonely worlds,
We are on the porch slowly smashing with you,
So having silent words of unspecified words.

Train will go to his final flight
And the conductor reluctantly cast the lock.
In the flame, notes make your fabulous forest
Woven roads made of cobwebs

There, behind the vests of underground lakes
Your water will open the enhancing hatch,
And flows overflow our conversation
In the memory of the strings and looked sick of their hands.