How else could you warm?
And they say that only ashes
Knows what it means to burn to the ground
And for everything you have to pay the bills
How, and how much salt did your cheek absorb?
Do not cry, the sun, warms the star, on a thin palm
But how to burn everything to the ground, alas, only fire knows
The dust needs the wind just like a spark fire
From the beauty to the ashes step, he is so close
But I will take a chance (And there are worms), the heart of a lady of three
At night my love counts dead sparrows
And living ugly. Roses hurt, roses love, sort of
But roses wither, roses fall on the grave of the lord
And you do not touch, that to the hands, then not to face
And my freedom loves chains, chains on my neck, and kisses
And they are stomped on the floor, one question:
"When and how did they accept sins?"
Why do all roses go to hell?
What are you or who? There were two questions myself
But each rose has its own Via Dolorosa
What are you or who? There were two questions myself
But each rose has its own Via Dolorosa
And the pain leading along it, to the old man from the youth
And in this kingdom of an idiot they idolize a fool so
That I inserted a star in my lobson
Turning over as if Adam's ribs
He started throwing like a dog, and Tom
Bone is close to saliva, I conjure that would be in the brain
You are all grown up like a cyst of words
And this song is a three-sheet confession
I sincerely wish with a wild screech of joy
Choke on the blood of Christ to all of you
There is no way to see color in the dark, but
If you really love it
And on the pink, on the petals
Red sunset dies -
So roses go to hell
There is no way to see color in the dark, but
If you really love it
And on the pink, on the petals
Red sunset dies -
So roses go to hell
All the roses go to hell
All the roses go to hell
Though the leaves color everything differently
But the thorns are alone and apart from pain
Do not fill the void in any way
All the roses go to hell
All the roses go to hell
And spit even white-black-red
Birth itself is sin
And for the thorns at the end all the roses go to hell
There is no way to see their color in the dark
But if you really love like that
And on the pink, on the petals
Red sunset dies
Why do all roses go to hell?
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