Текст песни Яна Чернявская - ЯЗЫЧНИК

I'm writing you a letter from his old lair,
Time gray and bold, of course, it has already passed.
This wolf's lair warmed, alas, not many -
I am the last pagan, keeping it warm.
Who knows me lonely son Horsa,
If the day I go, like everyone else, with downcast eyes?
This little world is scatter a handful of prohibitions,
Like someone said above him in silence: & quot; can not & quot ;.
I wander out of the way of all who believed in the word,
/ Cast bullets for my soul for a long time /.
Anyone who has replaced the old gods, for the umpteenth time in the new -
Of course I remember once in the face.
I'm ruthless, where are shameless and measures
I'm writing you a letter ... / read between the lines / itself.
Unfortunately, the evil - not banal smell of sulfur,
No horns and hooves - only loss of heat.
Warms me in the cold / I'll warm you first /
Time gray and bold knocking your hand.
I - the last pagan origins keeps the faith
The Christian God, was crucified on the mountain.