Текст песни GreyMillenium - Канатоходец

I have paper and pencil,
I have silence and silence.
And fingers cut to the cry
When you drive in a word notebook.
From black bread sick in the morning,
From nonsense in the evenings.
And falls without pride to the legs,
All that was proud of yesterday.
I have despair and dream -
Rope, stretched over the universe.
Tied a torn T-shirt eye
I go through it through the year
Halling my sonnets over the abyss.
And while completely bare stop
Tickle threads stretched like nerves,
I laugh, dispersion darkness,
On this opposite stepper the very first.
So that once, reaching the borders,
Prove that they did not happen.
What borders are a myth for liberals.
And the limit is not for those birds,
Which the world is not enough ...