Текст песни Чейн-Стокс - Флоренс Найтингейл

comes up to the throat
the stifled throat's air
we dance barefoot
on the mirrors of hope glass

Florence, how did you sleep
Was your dream dead and strong
what happened with patience
ashes from dead nerve cells

it is more difficult to breathe every day
every day less and less air
ligaments are stronger - the pain is stronger
Florence, think too late

with each liter less force
cunning hops plucks the will
shine in the fog gave birth
acute shortage of rest

Florence, it's too late to think about yourself
Believing is difficult, lying on the ground
Florence, it's too late to think about yourself
conscience can be put out in wine