Too young to die,
too good to lie,
but still I hold the dice,
because of cowardice...
"What if I fail?" But there's no reality.
Only fragments of broken mentality.
Who is the dreamer anyway? Are we really in the God's dream?
Or things are indeed not what they seem?
Babylon tower, languages shattered.
So I have to make my brain work hard, just to say something.
And still my words are scattered...
I leave, need to rest more to say more. Zug-zug (orcish).
P.S. Kalinka-malinka, Moskva, babooshka... Just leave my izbooshka