Ïðîñòî Õî÷åøü Òû Çíàòü

.. - .. . .. ,. .. ,. .. .. - , - .. ,. .. , - ,. - .. , ,. .. - ,. - ,. - ,. -.

Ïðîãóëêà Ðîìàíòèêà

,. ,. ,. ,. , ,. . .. .. ,. , .. .. ,. .. . .. ,. ,. ,. ,. ,. . .. ,. ,. ,. ,. ,.

Ìû Õîòèì Òàíöåâàòü

, ,. , ,. , ,. .. ,. , ?. , ,. , ?. , ,. ,. , ,. , ..

Ìóçûêà Âîëí

, ,. , ,. , ,. , . (2 ). , .. , .. .. , .. , ?. , ?. , ,. , ?.

What's The Count Jack?

What's the count Jack?. . I long for peace of mind. Tortured and thrilled at the same time. Betrayed by a bitch and her kiss. Wait until they get a good look at this.

Ïîñëåäíèé Ãåðîé

, ,. ,. ,. ,. ,. .. , !. , ,. , .. , !. , ,. , ,. , ,. .. ,. , "!". , ,. , !.

The Wheel

Unborn, a fresh young girl. Frail with the weight of the world. Already bent at the beauty of the night. Sent from heaven, unwanted on Earth. She brings her blessing wrapped in a curse.

Ïîïðîáóé Ñïåòü Âìåñòå

,. .. , .... ,. .. ,. ... (2 ). , ,. , .. ,. ,. : " !". ,. .... , , ,. : " !",. : " !". , .... ,. .. ,.

The Sum Of Love

Tortured soul, you, you long for one. Greater than the sum of love. Gone forever is the morning sun. Can it be forever gone. . She was lovely once, she was.

The Inferno Room

She trembled like a virgin movin' toward her wedding bed. Stumbled down that hallway like the dawn of the dead. Crept in like a creature, tryin' to crawl right through your soul.

Ìîè Äðóçüÿ

, , .. , ,. ,. . : " ".. ,. .. , ,. .. - , ,. , , .. , ,. , ,. , , .. ? ..

The First Hymn

And so I chose the night to be my dominion. Beauty, hope and joy all lay behind. All things good were no longer my companions. Buried with the soul that I let die.

The Blood And The Body

Íà÷èíàåòñÿ Íîâûé Äåíü

-.... ,. , , .. ,. - - ,. ,. - .... , ,. ,. ,. , .. ,. ,. , -. .... . , ,. , , ,. .. - ,. - , ,. ,. - !. , ,. ,. ,. , .. ,. ,. , -.

Sell My Soul (maybe I Will)

Trade my soul, I'd trade my soul. Give my like to that rock and roll. Down on my knees howlin' like a dog. Prayin' to my God, lookin' for the right road.

Ïà÷êà Ñèãàðåò

.. , ,. - .. ,. .. ,. , , .. ,. ,. ,. .. ,. .. ,. , ,.

Madonnica Diabolita

A crepe it hangs upon a wreath of black. Comes a gentle rock of a baby casket. Forth and back, this way, then that. . Its eyes not yet wide open, a heart born already broken.

Ïåðåìåí!

- ,. - ,. .. ,. ,. .. ! - .. ! - .. ,. :. "!. !". ,. ,. .. , - ,. , .. ! - .. ! - .. ,. :. "!. !". . ,. , .. , - ,. - .. ! - .. ! - .. ,. :. "!. !".

Good

Half of me wants to find religion. The other half of me says no. Half of me needs to find a rhyme and a reason. The other half just don't know what for.

Ïåñíÿ Êî÷åãàðàì

,. .. :. (3 ). .. .. .. ..