Bread and cheese and sobs, the cold tablecloth of a lover
|
Bread, cheese and hazelnuts, mourning clothes in the box
|
Nun stale and halva, burnt sea silk
|
Bread, cheese and walnuts, the story of the magic city
|
Bread, cheese and almonds, an unfinished story
|
Bread, cheese and vegetables, you value more than this
|
The foot of all the garlands, the execution of the voice again
|
Death of the rose again, again again
|
Green forest fire at the hands of madness matches
|
From our blue tiles intruding blood fountain
|
Bread, cheese and almonds, an unfinished story
|
Bread, cheese and vegetables, you value more than this
|
The story of the evil wizard that came from the book
|
Sitting on the pulpit, he beheaded the blood of his lovers
|
Next to the city was the mirror of the green glass forest
|
For Gis Glabton, that day was always like that
|
She used to pour mint in her skirt so that her mother could pitch a tent
|
He was going to fill the whole city with the smell of grass
|
Unaware that his way had been stolen by a witch
|
There was a black line on the sun's face
|
Oh, oh, let someone recite a new poem
|
Tell Gis Glabton about the death of the witch
|
From the death of the evil wizard that came from the books
|
Bread, cheese and almonds, an unfinished story
|
Bread, cheese and vegetables, you value more than this
|
Glabton's wig eyes saw nothing but night
|
There was no air, no breath, the story did not end
|
Grandma's stories are my mirror
|
The magic spell must be broken with your hands
|
With the hands of your friendship, darkness is not afraid
|
The light that is the last profession, enters our story
|
It is a pity that the city of mirrors becomes black and forbidden
|
Your story, my story, becomes unfinished like this
|
Oh, oh, let someone recite a new poem
|
Tell Gis Glabton about the death of the witch
|
From the death of the evil wizard that came from the books
|
Oh, oh, let someone recite a new poem
|
Tell Gis Glabton about the death of the witch
|
Tell me about the death of the witch
|
Let the poem of Gis Glabton be a hopeful poem
|
Your mirrors to you, each of which is the sun
|
Oh, oh, let someone recite a new poem
|
Tell Gis Glabton about the death of the witch
|
From the death of the evil wizard that came from the books
|
Bread, cheese and hazelnuts, mourning clothes in the box
|
Bread, cheese and vegetables, you value more than this |