Молчание - великое искусство вести беседу. Слова - это то, что определяет цену смысла. Тишина - это то, что определяет цену слов.
Having a chance not to be thirsty,
Why do we always try to suffer?
Having already coped with last murder,
Why do we fill our mind with stuffers?

It wasn’t my fault of finding an answer
Into the dead core of adjoining sound.
It’s just can be felt simply like cancer,
Authorizing my mind, if I were bound.

I’m slowly joining my aloof sick mind,
Trying to kill these loathsome thoughts.
Feeling like breathless, drawn in the wine,
Blackmailing myself with bold and brute words.

The degree of completeness, stability, pace,
Gently is leaving the path of my solitude,
Why should I hide in green grass me face,
Trying to dance out the core of this attitude?

Then why should I see right through all your lies,
If you don’t dare to look in my eyes?

What’s the use of having some friends?
What’s the use of friendship today?
It is only like the shade of the cranes
Who are steadily flying away…

What’s the sense in rising against
When no one will hold on your arm?
There’s no free time left to waste
And it’s no sense to set an alarm.

You’ve shown me what for we feel pain
When somebody is leaving away…
It was of me too feckless and bain
To forget that it will rain everyday.

You’ve shown me that I’m reckless alone
And there are no white angels behind.
Now I love you, when you’re gone
And I will hide it deep in my mind.

You’ve taught me how to have no conscience
And, of course, to be dead to the shame.
I know how to make oneself unconscious
And to make him burn in this flame.

These all things do not really mean death,
They just lead away from the heaven.
What’s the sense of searching a path,
When it’s already half past eleven?

@музыка: Stacy Wilde - Lie to Me

@темы: Воспоминания, Дружба, Мое творчество, Рассуждения, Стихи