Текст песни Эволюция в поэта - Из простого человека

My paintings are alive they can dream
My art is silent, and the ability to write
what I experience is one I know
Today and tomorrow I'm closed for quarantine
Someone is reading their books who wrote the books they
For me to create a warmer and closer
I am writing watching what happens on the roof
It is important for me to be with her brother on repite
I am very much aware of a lot of lost
I took very little but unfortunately many banished
And even if I fall asleep every night one
I fall asleep knowing the level of his own honor
And even if today I made plans for tomorrow
I do not change in order to avoid rassklade Trouble
And even if my life is soaked spots
In the ninety-second to tenth dvetysche

It's my choice, I lost a window into Paradise
It's my choice, now long Mora
Hands in the dirt and wash with the life of this world
Do not play me a lira, sorry, it's not a mirage

I tried to bring but did not try to understand
Few are those who hunt to just pick up and hug
And take them away from those who can not be trusted
To the honor and trust from a height on spit
I'm fading for a month and appear on the evening
In my company where I am I'm almost invisible
Where I sit and keep quiet and watch everything
noting their problems and change their mind
I probably did my little one road
Yet if you are lucky I will stay a little longer
yet will fight a bit while living soul of a poet
while playing the instrument from the chorus to the verse
Rep lives in my heart, he settled permanently
He liked it did not seem to be on the verge of
Hip-hop people, the disease - an epidemic of the century
Evolution of the poet of the common man

It's my choice, I lost a window into Paradise
It's my choice, now long Mora
Hands in the dirt and wash with the life of this world
Do not play me a lira, sorry, it's not a mirage