it [Theme] Page 281

A lot of things had to go, to just abandon a huge number of some show-off, prejudice. I just had to carry a big part of myself that made me successful in the environment in which I was, but it guys are doing me successful in the world. Had to get rid of some arrogance, stiffness relative to each other. This is actually an important part of the culture, which helps you to dominate in one environment and the other makes you an outcast and not to really empaty.

In the world there is no absolute justice, for everyone it.

But don't ask me about hope. It brings pain, and pain I no longer want.

You're supposed to ask me. I spent all morning in a queue to get this ham!
- I was so hungry and it was so good.

- What a woman needs to get your attention?
- Don't want to sound too superficial, but first I need to find her attractive. But that's okay, isn't it? You wouldn't want to date the hunchback of Notre Dame? In addition, it must be a great sense of humor, compassion and patience... Besides, I like shy women. Loud people drive me crazy. Of course, intelligence is very important. And it should not under any circumstances Wake me when I sleep. Sleep is my private passion and a drug.

Forests and deserts
Rivers, blue seas
Mountains and valleys
Nothing here stays
While we think we witness
We are part of the scene
This never ending story
Where will it lead to?
The earth is our mother
She gives and she takes
But she is also a part
A part of the tale.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
Sometimes beautiful
And sometimes insane
No one remembers
How it began.




Forests and deserts,
River and blue sea,
Mountains and valleys -
There is nothing left.
We consider ourselves to be spectators,
Being only a part of the scene.
Will
This endless story?
The earth is our mother
She gives and takes away,
But it is also part of the narrative.
We are part of history, part of a story,
Sometimes beautiful,
And sometimes the mad.
And no-one remembers
How it all began.

Armies have conquered
And fallen in the end
Kingdoms have risen
Then buried by sand
The Earth is our mother
She gives and she takes
She puts us to sleep and
In her light we'll awake
We'll all be forgotten
There's no endless fame
But everything we do
Is never in vain.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
We're all on this journey
No one is to stay
Where ever it's going
What is the way?




The conquerors ' army
In the end, Pali,
Erected Kingdom
Now buried in the sand.
The earth is our mother,
She gives and takes away,
Puts us to sleep
With her light, we awaken.
We will all be forgotten -
Infinite glory does not happen -
But all that we do
Never in vain.
We are part of history, part of a story,
We are all in this journey
No one in the party.
Where is all this coming?
What is our path?

You sit in the pit, what do you see? One account - nothing! And came up out of the pit - you feel better! And the mountain went still farther see! On top was - and all the way out you open. And all the people, cattle and other creatures of God in full view imagine it... the Top is. Here it is, the mountain-this is the life of man. It is difficult, it is true, of course, and then given us feat. Each person has their own mountain. One higher, the other lower, and above all - mount Calvary.

Unicorns appear in her sight,
The fireflies lead her trough these woods at night
In search of the legendary amulet,
And it's secret.
In the big oak there is a door
Which will lead her
To the wizard shore,
And she'll ask him
For the wind to sail her home
To the world where she belongs.




In front of her prancing unicorns
The fireflies lead her through the forest at night
In search of the legendary amulet
But it's a secret.
In the stately oak is hidden,the door
Which will lead her
On a magic shore.
She asks about the wind,
To return home
In a world where her place.

In her world of dreams and make believe
She reigns forever
With all her glory.
In this world of endless fantasy
She makes it happen,
It's her reality.




In the world of dreams and illusions
She's always ruled
In all its grandeur.
In this world of endless fantasy
Has everything she wants,
This is her reality.

On golden wings
She flies at night
With her dress.
It's blinding white
Countless diamonds
And her long blond hair.
The queen is coming
So you better be aware.
Her plums and flowers
They're never the same
Blue and silver,
It's all her game.
Flying dragons
And enchanted woods,
She decides, she creates
It's her reality.




On Golden wings
She flies into the night
His costume;
Dazzling Shine
Countless diamonds
And her blond curls.
Know this: the Queen arrives.
All sorts of flowers and fruits,
Blue and silver
It was all her game.
Dragons in the sky
And enchanted forests -
Her ideas, her creation,
This is her reality.

Damn. The tube does not take.
- Who?
- Matt.. the Whole day calling her.
- What do you want from her?
- She kicked me out.
Why?
- Found out I cheated on her.
- And she didn't know that you don't believe in a monogamous relationship?
- What?! Where did you get? Of course I do!
- Why sleep with other men?

Yes, thanks to this miraculous salvation in the basement, I re-learned magic. I continued to listen to her mother's bedtime stories, but have ordered the dreams of himself living in them a different reality. And when the tale broke out of the dream into my day, I already knew how much. For example, collecting the Golden pollen from the autumn maple leaf and melted it into gold. All the new coins I was diligently polishing paste GOI and admired the glow of imagination, transforming an ordinary penny pennies into gold doubloons, folded into the pirate chest. A thousand devils and a barrel of rum! I had fun when the box was empty boxes from the matches, - was filled with coins. Oh, what joy! Comes new tales, is painted in Golden-red tones. Autumn was at any time of the year because all the gold was Fiat wealth inside of me. And this wealth no one could take away - just as it is impossible to take away a child's dream or an adult the desire to be happy. At any age you can be a wizard. Adult to do this, at least for a time, become the child, and the child - not to let themselves "adults" fears. Adults often fear of liberation from the anxieties generated by life's bustle. These concerns constrain the infinite soul, put her in a cage, even of pure gold, made to suffer, but the soul gradually becomes accustomed to the captivity, like a bird to its cage. Get used to the cage and the soul. And when it turned loose, she's afraid to make the first move. The freedom she feels like a cage and a prison pulpit freedom. Adult harder to become a magician. It is almost impossible. Only a purified heart can be this gift.

The city where I was born, carried the spirit of magic. Grotesque characters could exist only in the mood of my town with lots of soaring Gothic spires of the old Church, a neat cobbled streets and squares, where the night was going and weeping ghosts of witches, heretics, scientists, alchemists of all stripes, who during the Inquisition were burnt "to the greater glory of God." Their weeping was turned to the past, and was hovering over today's city Baltic howling monsoon winds. The past was heard in the night noises, which can recognize only children. Sometimes the old Church, built not on a Foundation of stone, and only hot fervent faith, flew up to the heavens, which were fixed and then the city could be heard the groans of the sinners who are not embraced landless Sky.
Old black river P. twice a year was "swollen" and poisoned by the miasma citizens. Who was wiser, he knew that Christmas and Easter from the bottom trying to get up decayed bodies are left there once the villains and robbers, and come out ahead of time on the Court Fear. And witches who were not checked by the fire of fires, and throwing them into the water. If the young red-haired beauty with green eyes, which conveyed a fat Burger, a neighbor, did not sink, so she was declared a witch and she was burned at the stake. If drowned, then the Church has recognized a mistake and prayed for the soul of the righteous, innocent victim for the sake of Christ and received a crown of the Martyr. Burger-the informer was not recognized, because in the inquisitorial box for letters - the "mouth of truth" - were allowed to leave anonymous. Not recognized there were still reasons for which it was told: young, proud beauty denied him the pleasures of love - she, a woman with obvious signs of witches; too independent, too beautiful, with Golden hair the color of carrots and eyes like sparkling malachite. The city was old for new stories, however, have nourished fantasies of children to magical new stories.