Текст песни Евгения Зарина - Писатель

It is said that the writer / poet, always a little crazy,
What his soul - the wilderness, where in the darkness of the north wind whistling,
Only in his heart, I found only gone mourning
And a little sad that he was alone in the world.

It is said that the poet be easy - you need only paper but muse
Just something no hurry to get them,
Just a poem it is difficult to calmly listen to all,
Because then you can simply break with grief.

A writer / poet reads a familiar line
And weary eyes slips on such a strange person.
After all, he knows that people are essentially alone,
But then he throws them to go and get drunk.

It is said that the writer / poet, always a little stupid,
What he gets thumbs while everyone else suffer,
And no one sees how his view of the nebula flour,
When someone again his old line reads.