Текст песни 4 - Пересланные сообщения

So strange , every time you show up on the verge of a nervous breakdown , when the body and the word is not subject to , when I lose sight.
Put on the feet , fed with a spoon.
Vozishsya me like a child small.
Hide me under the gray cloak , my trembling soul hide nasty .
Your peace of mind , I obviously did not break .
You saw all my rebuke those that obscene .
Not turned away my sweet friend.
Always brighten up leisure night wandering feral eyes.