Текст песни Андрей Федосеев - 2. Художник

This night should play the cello
And the artist starts writing this night is about to
A canvas appeared on the canvas, a swing
Lanterns - it seems to be autumn, no, it's not that

The yard is crossed out and nobody is on the swing
It will not fly from childhood to old age
And the girl looking out the window
So forever left without a face

This night should play the cello
Without it, the artist can not cope
A door appears on the canvas.
She's locked, what's behind her? What's the difference?

The door is crossed out and on the other hand
Already no life, everyone is accustomed
The artist kills the worlds
What just does not allow them to arise

Behind the wall the notes flowed like a stream, a river
Draft swept through the room out the window
Smiled Artist - friend came
I took a pencil - it will be a black and white night

White sky with black stars - night
Black field is snow, winter
Chain of tracks - someone is walking away
Maybe from the artist, maybe from myself

Circling, howling blizzard, brings traces
In the distance, left a fire at the window
The artist finished - he created the world
And then this world will live by itself

Will Nameless die in the field in the snow
What will come up with a past
He will do everything himself or in pleas
Will often appeal to the Artist -

All in his hands