Nights kills whiskey, I am writing you a letter.
I'm addicted to you , and this is the first sign .
Pulled to brush would draw your portrait , I'm sorry, but I'm not an artist and brush either.
Sheltered shroud monotony of everyday life , so you're farther away from me, are not available.
This warm inside, but outside the ice.
Without giving anything in your right move .
I would like to know you better , but I do not know .
See your image , I dream about it .
After all, you're so , this is not available , all unknown , mystery you're the best .
I know what you interestno to the touch , because you do not have flesh and warm skin.
And why , as soon as you show up at night , and in the air like smoke in the morning you dissolve .
No one has ever heard from you the word.
What is your melody of tone ?
Mono or stereo ?
You fit in patients with enviable walls for days and weeks is called with no regret for one moment you take away hope.
Did you stay at this forever, so cruel and at the same time perfect .
You're not me, you are constantly in this role , I only know your name and nothing else .
Tell me something , or one question I answer: Yes , why are you silent for so many years ?
Speak to me.
I ask only one thing : you make a reality of my dream.
I want you to know , you hear I want
so people said he could hear the silence.
Sheltered shroud monotony of everyday life , so you're farther away from me, are not available.
This warm inside, but outside the ice.
Without giving anything in your right move .
Nights kills whiskey, I am writing you a letter.
I'm addicted to you , and this is the first sign .
Pulled to brush would draw your portrait , I'm sorry, but I'm not an artist and brush either.
Without back velvet wrapped blizzard , noting red all days of the week .
And I kakbudto glued to the wooden floor with a pen and a notebook at a table near the monitor.
Unbearably painful write his own blood, will understand only one who knows what it's worth .
Another story , howling whining soul , and you're still the same slim through the park slowly.
The room I painted pictures 3x2 preventing paint from righteousness Jose Fina .
Steps to a razor's edge , a photo with a smile.
Tell me how to write love in Sanskrit.
You rvёsh all the threads odnoyu a phrase.
Why are my many such stories ?
Everybody Dies But Me , or , on the contrary , all remain and one person dies .
Cool as Ice , visitor from another planet , I should have been born 300 years earlier .
All this bluff romantic hidden behind the scenes with the terms of the rescue drowning in the ocean.
And let the piranhas will eat , I will look to shore.
After all, I know you 're standing there all in white , and I lost them all .
For days , but you're still far away from me are not available .
Nights kills whiskey, I am writing you a letter.
I'm addicted to you , and this is the first sign .
Pulled to brush would draw your portrait , I'm sorry, but I'm not an artist and brush either.
Sheltered shroud monotony of everyday life , so you're farther away from me, are not available.
This warm inside, but outside the ice.
Without giving anything in your right move .