Adramelech все записи автора I spill the blood... There is no serious cause to wonder,
There is one more weak bleak reflection of disease.
It is so funny - washing scarlet hands from under
The water flowing down continuously freezes...
So hard to hold in pulsing memory my features,
World have no mirrors for my disappearing face..
Pain, death and bitterness were my indifferent teachers
And it was no joy in the morning sunshine rays.
I spill the blood...I always run through sunken madness,
Which waits a moment to perform its ugly paints,
It conquers me, this pain appears always endless,
It's hungry demon, hardly boiling in my veins...
When I forget who am I, I shall live another,
I shan't be separate from smiling people mass.
I want to live!!! I want to hug my grey-haired mother...
But there is no chance to forget, to lose, to pass.