All the trouble through the glands of the clichal,
I fled to the faces
Poured the long-staying longing,
All the fingers hid in the ground, in sinful.
In the ground that you chose confused
Ripened grave
And I do not believe my death, I saw
You in the dance wounded idol.
And went to the path, and not a note,
All with questions, yes with the brings.
I went sadness sad
That neither the rings, then all the wedding.
And the horse gave me white,
Know looking for you, apparently, ordered.
While my body is not extended,
I really want to wake up with you.
And Christ was resurrected, not on a joke,
Is urgent to live with gaps,
Terrificly fly not stained,
Cravals across the sky crucified.
And the road trampled is not in vain,
From fingers to Christ, climbing his eyes.
For Skitnya over the years, with cocks,
We paid a melancholy one.
And when our doctors calm down,
When the doors are closed for us,
I'll pay the pay, I hide the executioner by the shoulders,
I will create you, you reell me.