Not a drop of nicotine in 30 minutes *
Not a word at the break, not even whispering
Not a breath - the spider's web might fall
No fear, no love, no grumbling at least.
Dawns, sunsets
Where am I going? And where are you going?
The paper pilots
We'll cut into pieces
Not a gram of regret, and only in the eyes
There is no happiness, no rain and no cause.
Just a moon has passed since the birthday days
Whose clock dial is going mad because of the frost
Dawns, sunsets
Where am I going? And where are you going?
The paper pilots
We'll cut into pieces