Текст песни Сотканная Изо Льда - Забота

Care

Crippling the psyche of care
So timid and just as ruthless :
My prison, my cross , my swamp ,
And we need to run, so nepovadno .

And will all the weaker voice - quieter
And vise cotton compress vyasche .
Take wanted in life a niche ,
But there was no real life .

Uterine , Blind Care
Grown up child, hugging to a crisp ,
Stacked in a cradle that has a -
As the legendary Procrustes bed .

Himself , of course , can be uprooted ,
But the spirit of the fallen to naught all the zeal of driving .
The child could Essential submissive ,
Forgive yourself - so , too, does not go out .