Мужчина, Который Не Пишет Прозы [Muzhchina, Kotoryy Ne Pishet Prozy] [English translation]

Your hands, so cruel

I used to worship them like they were guillotine

You raised vices to an art form

And painted pictures, using words as knives

An ancient castle that harbors danger -

The man who doesn't write prose

He drinks angel's tears like water

That man who doesn't write prose

The master of my hungry dreams

You once too were a part of them

You've disappeared in cold waters

Without giving me a chance to know what happiness means

He won't warm the frozen rose n his hands

The man who doesn't write prose

He drinks angel's tears like water

That man who doesn't write prose