What crime is on your record?
When did you lose your wings?
Are your memories chequered?
Do you still dream of having all those things?
Having all of those things?
I want no part of the betrayal
If you should succeed or if you fail
It's you who worries me
Spring withers and summer smothers
My portrait casts its skin mile after yellow mile
On the walls, thin layers, oily traces
Preserved and exhibited down the stairs
A medicine finish, a craftsman's touch
That's how many came to grief
What time is it on your planet?
What time is it in your heart?
In your past deeds did you plan it?
How far are we apart?
For those who could not flee
Belief in a promised release
You hung your lights in the trees
That's how many came to grief
|
Switch to Russian 
