People like me, alas, don't love.
People like me, alas, not waiting.
People like me, alas, only ruin.
The hearts of such are cruelly burned.
People like me, alas, no one will hug.
People like me, alas, don't take to ballet.
People like me, alas, no one accept.
Only a trace will remain in the soul of people like me.
Such harmful and unbearable ones.
Such freedom-loving and blind.
Blind only to this imaginary life.
But I will leave a silhouette in everyone's life.
And my ghost is blind and hopeless.
Will wander through the castle of your souls.
And on eyes front of my cold soul
At the end of the game, only mascara.
