Текст песни Пустые улицы и коробок спичек - строчки грустного поэта

The books read were lying on the floor.
I kept wandering the streets.
Was in a false paradise.
And he read pain on other people's faces.

I look into the reflection.
I'm trying not to play.
My imagination,
I wish I could be silent.

I write poetry on a piece of paper.
I squeeze a pencil in my hands
So much courage in me.
I am a poet forever, only yours.

I squeeze the air in my arms.
I screw my eyes tightly.
The light went out,
And they could see miles ahead.

I kept going somewhere.
Somewhere ahead.
I was pushed from the cliff by someone.
And no one gives a hand.

I close my eyes.
I let the flowers out of my hands.
They fly off and a thunderstorm begins.
And there were crosses on the hills.

Read the books I put on the shelves.
I remembered all this.
He remembered the old lines.
A sad poet.