Текст песни Бард Мафусаил - Сиротская.

Submit orphan
You seem to be in the dough of clothes
All fried in a frying pan
In the kitchen hopes.

Your hands like sheets, white,
Boots - as if nights are shiny.
Your bones like ripe apples
In gentle paws we will shrink.

So stick your children
How did the money in the bank cheered -
Today night I will be dark
And the urgent bread of loaf.

So apply orphan,
But not a penny and not a couple of pennies -
But only a sigh smoothly shaved Glodci,
Cut to ears.

2013.