Текст песни Записки Неизвестного - Тайна Врача

Play the game sick pianist!
Bay notes to seizures weary hands!
I am the darkness in his eyes stuck optometrist
And I washed my soul, my body is baptizing.
And I am on the face of the crucifixion of sobriety,
Finishing his dying coolness of autumn.
A wrist watch slide blunt blade.
See: sunset sky pissed!
And you try to sing for the health-ka,
After all, if he was conceived in a hospital bed,
The fragrance of flowers intertwined with garbage stench,
And the children amuse themselves by weeping widows tin.
Here it is! My happiness funny,
Thorns of roses disfigured brush
Draw on bandages paint cherry
Insignificance truths before the majesty of truth.
There is nothing sadder in life,
The visible face of an absurd death,
When the angel leaves, absorbs despair
And you see how the church crowned devils.
Songs about freedom thunder shackles.
Current drinking sobriety sober.
In this life to die is still so new,
In this living death even newer.