|Original Upload Date|
Imagine for a moment that world in which you live become an empty.
Whether you will sing songs now about how he is cruel?
No. Only now "Return everything, i'm sick" - you singing
"At least a part. I ask, return my existence!"
Life - pain, she is terrible, all cry, veins cut out
Oh, God. Life to you is not a stick to beat
The fact that you can, it's only fables about your past, a gritting
That you suffer, can't embrace the whole world
Everyone builds life itself and depends on it
Well, bad luck? It was your choice, everything will be fixed.
What will be if the adult boy will hang on mom?
Her destiny on a coffin, my darling, belowed you will screw.
How to explain, to you, not grateful morons,
That everything depends only on you, but not of destiny's crinkles
Stacke that, shall we play in a blind-man's-buff further with you ?
Well, what we don't see, we only hear, inspired.
Stacke that, weather isn't solar, dishes we beat, a little finger about a jamb,
That you haven't slept, tired, angry, and not a mean't to be.
Before thee shines, blinks like a lighthouse.
And before you hatred, not as usual tears and prayer.