Текст песни Jam - Каждому свое

The funniest thing is not playing
Black painted white wall
There are two arrows on the margin
To hell, into nothingness
Someone will say the little things
But to each his own.
There is little choice
Get up or leave.
They are considered games here
Nonsense with people.
Here is the prologue written,
And then it goes.
Reaches for thoughts
to each his own.
Who counts gold
Who burns in the fire
Whose soul is pierced
Truth in the blood.
Who will write the spell
Brittle glass
Who remained superfluous
To each his own.
Torn drawings cannot erase tears
And in the dawn with madness you definitely will not leave
Because they are complicated, and that's all
Even the impossible
To each his own.
Strikes back clean old sins
Every communion in blood like verses
And the crucified life flies on the edge,
Damned damned, to each his own.
And daring throwing from sunset to ...
Until the vile dawn, to each his own.