Stories of all the days,
Old discussions which are always to discuss,
Stories which laid down on benches
In waiting for a happy end.
Stories about us, great people
To whom it's difficult not to fall in love,
An eternal life but in mind there are great ideas.
One more passed day,
The clock is stopped for ages
For those like we
Who are in run and live for half.
One more day which passes now
With love
But it is not so big as I wished.
Stories as lost friends
Who change a street if you greet them.
Stories don't make noise
As a locked with a key room.
Stories don't have the future
As a small point on a big wall
Where it's written a line to a woman
Who is not here any more.
One more passed day,
A tired day which no one will hear
For all those like we,
Without any triumphs and troubles.
One more day which passes now
With this love
Which is not beautiful as I wished.
Stories as rings of smokes
In a far place
Where there is no one
But the night
Which never ends.
One more passed day,
Forgotten between noises of the city.
For all those like we
Nothing is changed and nothing will be changed.
One more day which passes now
With this love
Which is not strong as I wished.