It seems to us like a fantastic,
It seems to us like anything wonder
We’ve got used to unreal romantics
Who does manage these people – may be a spider?
Nobody cares about each other
And majority rules o’er prophets
Oh, prodigal child, where is your mother?
How did you fall to the spider’s nets?
I have seen so much of these stories
They would be untold to you all
Here isn’t a place for mysteries
Do you believe me, are you gonna recall?
© Лео Лунарис