I was born under satire,
Yes, I'm glad to make fun of you.
All the vices and pains,
And feelings like a stench.
And so passionately and often,
Walking on thin ice.
I keep thinking, you know,
And what can I do.
I can't tell you,
Change it all.
How terrible is it,
My position.
I was born under satire,
Yes, I'm glad to make fun of you.
All the vices and pains,
And feelings like a stench.
And more and more often,
And more passionately, walking on thin ice.
I'm not afraid anymore,
Sink to the bottom.
satire
© Copyright: Даниил Овнер Сатэ, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124092905268
Свидетельство о публикации №124092905268
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