Текст песни Gwynplaine - Знание к смерти

Stout, a handful of anger.
Full, larynx death.
It stinks madness cursed management .
Bright yoke decayed hopes

Hiding from the light shadows ,
weaved patterns & quot; good & quot ;,
Hiding behind the leaves
unknown envelopes
In vain to hide an awl in his hand,
white collar
They can not hide the blood on the sleeves .