You are amazing , my lord.
Hand bend on the thin strings
And easy to print Uninvented dramas.
You are amazing , my lord,
And the word of the angel through the gloom ,
I discern you through the murky glass ...
And your sun will rise earlier and soprano Your cleaner
And your faithful friends - your stronghold .
And you - majestic Prince and the Pauper I'm clueless ,
But I love your voice , my young lord.
You are amazing , my lord.
But , since we meet eyes,
You laugh with shame and hide the view .
And how could it be otherwise ?
You are reflected in the glass,
Not in the crystal palace of mirrors garlands.
And - hello stained walls, faded white windowsill
And black with pencil poetry.
And I , of course , you are not a friend. And, moreover, is not a fan
But I love your voice , my young lord.
You are amazing , my lord.
In one beautiful touch,
You treat song on this earth.
And probably deserved this general acceptance ,
And I slapped the nickname "Rouge Exille".
But you do not write poems and do not change habits
To accidentally hurt nobody ,
I spit and I spit on those stupid propriety
As long as the strings do not sgryzet my death .
And - hello stained walls, faded white windowsill
And black with pencil poetry.
And I , of course , you are not a friend. And, sorry, not a lover ,
Thank you , good-bye , my lord ...
