I don't have the strength, my friend...to fight.
I have not learned to fight.
Alone, if necessary, I will wander among wolves.
White streams in the hair. And a sad couplet.
Knife in the back. Unbearably cruel things.


I'm in pain today, my friend, I'm tired.
I'm tired of human malice.
I carry the heavy presence of the soulless people
who are still digging my grave.


There is a place for everyone on this Earth,
but not everyone seems to find it.
With the good ones I will always be good,
And also with the bad guys. But they don't understand...


I ask you, my friend, should the
Devil take my hand today,
sprinkle my heartless honor with
heartlessness, and me to rise?


I did not want, my friend, to change
this world, dressed in ink!
Believe me, I have been striving for this all my life!
Maybe I have failed to become a human!


Today, those who stood next to me are leaving me one after another.
There, in the crowd, my friend, and your back
is among those who did not understand...


They did not understand that I wanted a friendly shoulder,
I was looking for sincerely pure hearts.
The masks are already below. And I see only
faces distorted by malice...


And my face, mine, smiles again,
pulls the rusty knife from its back.
Then, drop by drop, the insult subsides.
And I'm ready to forgive again.