Uninteresting to read
The foul play's script
About another's love
And our last endeavour
Won't be restored never
While we don't try enough
Our happiness we lost
Out of this simple plot
Bright day fell into hole
All characters're the same
And walk along the stage
While people find their homes.
They will forget tonight
The man who wrote and write
And everyone'll forget this play
In little moustrap
Our motions are intept
And we hide behind the days
I know we haven't been called
To watch the play, that cold
Rain wrote for someone else
I know - these words are said often
Like our forgotten offence
I hear your whisper, when you out of there