My great fear from where it comes?
And where it goes out, I don't know.
It's look like sand in a bosom.
It's look like burning hair.
My great fear from where it comes
And where it goes out, I don't know.
May be the north wind brings
it with itself
And maybe I'm a tree
And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate.
It's look like sand in a bosom.
It's look like burning hair.
Maybe I drink it with water
running from my vein.
And maybe I'm a tree
And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate.
1 | Children with depth like sky |
2 | Touch it with your hands |
3 | Endless line |
4 | Traditions of the world |
5 | I sing what i see |
6 | Fucking anarhist's song |
7 | Frankness of the pressthroated person... |