Текст песни Weter - Жизнь на бумаге

Heaven on Whatman go to blue watercolor
Her crystal river water in it
House and the roof as if embroidered with flowers
Fields embroidered with gold and then the horizon

It draws heat and frost draws
She paints the town but only joy in them
It draws people but does not draw unnecessary
She lives so that it draws only breathes this

Its figures star in her palm Figures
She draws her love although not know
She paints, she draws the sea faith
Although it draws good does not believe

She draws a white on white life
She paints a bright paint so wants to see
She does not want to live the way she does not believe the death
It draws one to five meets tomorrow

Autumn came back to the city she draws our leaves
She paints the sky and I write about it
She only believes in miracles she does not believe in happiness
Wanted her to give him she did not believe me

She sat remembering the joy particle
In her eyes I saw the weakness and heart rate chest
She wanted to tell me something but remembering paint
She hugged me whispered to go

Heaven on Whatman go to blue watercolor
Her crystal river water in it
House and the roof as if embroidered with flowers
Fields embroidered with gold and then the horizon

Heaven on Whatman go to blue watercolor
Her crystal river water in it
House and the roof as if embroidered with flowers
Fields of gold embroidered in gold

But what does it mean
Is it so you can live here
God created you for good but put in a false world
Papers crammed inside the loggia measures
Week waiting time passed without adding faith
 
You went out to the balcony breathed fresh air
You painted it gold ocean shallows
Visions of your lord Dialled on their wall
After passing through the world just yourself but not just a friend

Among the steep cliffs of the mountains oasis of beautiful days
 Draw crying breathlessly To someone's opinion was happy
You're part of the heart goes without realizing it
Carefully adjusting the color yellow gouache

Flower gleam filled virtual life
Her reality ran entrainment year
Forecasts hail storm bypassed by
But sometimes understood comes to life

Then tore the paper scrap with a bang brush
I wanted to throw paint in Figures life hangs
She was sitting on the window and filled with pain
And in the morning went to the store and bought n6ovye

It is not a world that she probably saint
I beg sit down to talk to me at least a little
It is not a world that she probably saint
Drawing on my memory with the signature Natalia