Текст песни Вероника Долина - К фантазиям

That, the fideller, what you did,
What did he sentenced themselves?
You buried my parents under the heart
And nothing good came out.

Although the burn yourself, even dir - you are not holy,
And invention you live, trying to try.
Where Molenia was, there will be a wound.
Satin top, yes torn wear.

Whether a woman - they are cherished,
They themselves, favorite, regret
Do not tear yourself in the claws, do not torture,
Do not cut into small pieces.

Think, pity yourself, pretty -
Cut down, burning people hurt.
Sing, fideller, sing their voices -
Iron, with stupid eyes.