The chosen song


Whenever a story is done
It is talking about an old, a niсo or whether,
But my story is difficult
I'll talk about a common man
makes the story of a being from another world
an animal of galaxies,
It is a story that has to do
with the course of the Via Lactea.
It is a buried history,
It is about a being out of nothing.

Naciу a storm
in the sun one night
penъltimo of the month,
It was from planet to planet
looking for potable water,
perhaps you are looking for life,
seeking death
that is never known.
Perhaps looking silhouettes
something like that was adorable,
or at least likable,
kissable, friendly.

He discovered that the mines
King of Salomуn
They were in heaven
and not in the fiery Africa
as people thought
But the stones are cold
and was interested warmth and joy.

The jewels had no soul
They were just mirrors, bright colors.
And the low end to war,
perdуn, I meant to earth.

He knew the history of a stroke,
felt his head milled crystals
and comprendiу the war
It was the peace of the future:
I quickly learned a terrible mбs
and how beautiful life difficult for us.
The last time I saw him go,
between smoke and shrapnel, happy and naked
He was killing scoundrels
with its caсon future.