I close  my eyes and see the red circles
You just like chanting my  verses
It’s the smell of grass, land and [bad word] at my scream

I’m a synonim for sorrow
Everything will be better tommorow
As [bad word] and  don’t reach the end
Again I seem to be blamed

CH: Drama, give me more drama!
       Baby you can freeze me
I can’t breathe.

Like a hunter, who has gone astray
Like a wounded beast  speaks silently
Wash my face with the young tears everyone
Is waiting for the spring

I’m a synonim for sorrow
Everything will be better tommorow
As [bad word] and  don’t reach the end
Again I seem to be blamed

Every morning I interpret my dreams.