| You are silent for days, you don’t know about me,
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| You shout about yourself, you read about others ...
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| You are silent for days, you don’t know about me,
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| Lost mouse, fingers past the keys
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| Fingers past the strings, strings past, past ...
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| July rains down on the shores of the bay.
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| February, icy and burning, beats with fire,
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| The past is not a pity only a rattlesnake
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| Longing creeps in the corners of the apartment...
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| Not enough evil, not enough peace...
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| Silence for days...
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| Silence for days...
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| You are silent for days, you don’t know about me
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| You shout about yourself, you read about others ...
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| Fingers past the strings, strings past, past ...
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| July rains in the memory of the bay.
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| February beats with fire, icy and sonorous,
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| The past is not a pity, it is a pity that it is very thin
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| There was a connection between Before and After...
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| Paint the world with your new adult.
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| Time is not silent, time is talkative.
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| In the memory of the rays, the sun by the bay.
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| In memory, February is icy and burning,
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| The past is not a pity only a rattlesnake
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| Silence for days...
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| Silence for days...
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| You are silent for days, you grow older every day ...
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| The sun is higher than the roofs, why don't you warm up?
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| I'll keep a diary so that the children know -
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| The gloomy old man was once bright!
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| But the fingers are past the strings, the strings are past, past.
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| The talking bird is invisible in memory...
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| You are silent for days, you don’t know about me
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| You shout about yourself, you read about others ...
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| You are silent for days, you don’t know about me
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| You shout about yourself, you read about others ...
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| Silence for days...
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| Silence for days...
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| Silence for days...
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| Silence for days... |