Текст песни Пограничное состояние - Клетка

I
I painted on the dirty pavement
The hand of a blind child,
I had the eternal flip
On your harsh hand.
I burn precious lives
On the sly, evil traps.
It hurts to break ideas
On the walls of the blind callousness.

Chorus:
And your tears will melt any armor,
Your lips will make you forget about the war,
Your hands are prison golden prison,
Do not go to crazy not to go crazy.
But the name is cold and the dirt streets of cities,
I'm burning without the puddles without Razorwind
There I was waiting for the fate of the corner:
Maybe a new mold may maid - country.

II
Hiding behind a white reason
Bleeding in my subconscious.
Dropping his hands into the causes,
Immolation of caustic flame.
Multiplying the broken soul,
I collect the pieces in the treasury.
Penetrating into open ears
Leaving heart tattoos.

Chorus.