Текст песни Markscheider kunst - Пуля

Throwing his head shoulders ,
I get down phrases in heaven.
And I am waiting for the rake - wind
Vernet me the rhetoric.

Steps while away the evening .
I walk aimlessly .
My eyes caress the meeting ,
They attract night - voices .

So anything that does not make sense ,
Hidden reason beckons .
But if someone hears me,
Let them speak now!

Here by my death I raced ,
Her bullet and did not catch up ...