The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

I'm an ordinary guy
Burning down the house

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

Fuck strategy! I have a shotgun! ^_^

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

" - Те люди, внизу, они живут по правилам, а толку? Их всё равно поглотил страх.
- А перестанут бояться и что?
- Тогда всё просто. Выбираешь путь и идёшь без оглядки." (с) FaF III

Nazareth – Games
Комаров Кирилл – У входа в рай
Peter Gabriel – Games Without Frontiers
Воскресенье – Кто виноват
Антонио Вивальди – Танец смерти (Escala Palladio)
Андрей Миронов – Где ты была?
Hammerfall – Last Man Standing
Кукрыниксы – Холодно
Disturbed – Indestructible

"Невинный блаженец" © D.G.

Ilaan vanished – and took all the sounds and sources of light along. Only Ilaan remained. Down on his knees, an obedient servant of the Force, just like all those months ago. It spoke to him – and he listened, without saying a word. Out of his silence, the sounds and images appeared, filling the space around them, giving the reality its meaning and weight, just like clean white cloth that gradually becomes heavy with blood when it covers the body.

Я сижу и смотрю на чужую улицу из чужого окна
И не вижу ни одной знакомой души

"Невинный блаженец" © D.G.

Ilaan vanished – and took all the sounds and sources of light along. Only Ilaan remained. Down on his knees, an obedient servant of the Force, just like all those months ago. It spoke to him – and he listened, without saying a word. Out of his silence, the sounds and images appeared, filling the space around them, giving the reality its meaning and weight, just like clean white cloth that gradually becomes heavy with blood when it covers the body.

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

Я сижу и смотрю на чужую улицу из чужого окна
И не вижу ни одной знакомой души

The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.

I'm an ordinary guy
Burning down the house

Ужас, летящий на крыльях из стали (с) Раймус Айсбридж
--------------------
Take my love. Take my land.
Take me where I cannot stand.
I don’t care, I’m still free.
You can’t take the sky from me.