Иностранные песни

The practise of harmony Is a delicate thing The tension preceding The bow and the string It’s just how you

Come, approach My trusty jackal’s nose Don’t try to lie Cause I can smell your hide Leave your body Leave

Through acrid clouds of summer flies The garden swells with a thousand more wise Forever flung to celestial dreams Clawing

We leave the shores to see the mountains rising A distant impression growing This judgment creates the pain we hold

You are a fake, you’re broke You’re nothing that I need to feel alive But damn, this pittoresque incisions make

You’re just a clone of them Have you no way to set a fire You’re just a clone of them

Mark out the points Build the pyre Assemble different drummers Light up the fire Put on your masks And animal