Фрэнки-шоу - Святой Валентин. - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

- Yes. Love is a disease, you are right. And most often, she resembles a stupid race for their fantasy and this illusory chase is full of painful lust, drama and eventually turns around a series of cruel disappointments in which the fiery passion turns cold hatred and treason. I know it. But I know, the same, the soldiers who are without hands, without legs, the enemy dreamed with the guts and teeth, because their favorite women were waiting for them. I passed with them through 17 big battles and I know whose names they are thrown when I have a lack of painkillers, by living wounds to them and when their teeth crumble against unbearable pain. I know what words to be pulled out with blood when I screamed the rangbed legs and hands without anesthesia. I know who they pray and who are called when they are turned on the involve on my, filled with blood, operating table. They name their women. And only because they survive that these women in their, smoked pain shock, conscious come to them. Come and sing songs about love and put their hands on their heads. And they survive not because I am a good doctor, but because they have for what to keep in this hell.

Yes, their profession is hatred, but it is outside, and inside ... you know what keeps them from the inside? And makes them survive?