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It was not difficult for you to cross the road. You would see yourself in these doubts of false.

Like people said, if a black cat will blocked your path, then you can hang it.

But do not rush! Whatever the sacramental my appearance here is everything simple,

In fact, I run to soak in the knees of your lady, because I am not a bold.

But I'm in my soul - Berserk, Monster! The gaze is always cold, because inside is a cross.

I am not a hero of the stage, but it will be more difficult to forget this!

I know everything about you. Without sneaking behind, I am watching you from Barad-Dura.

No, I'm not good -there is, like skeletons in the closet of the house, as well as somewhere a couple of corpses in the ditch.

And soon the ceremony of exorcism does not rush here, in vain you strained the Inquisition.

The trick is my horse, a rogue against me is like a fox against a trap.

So far you are only a dream of luck. You swelled so much effort into the throne -

A single cartridge. I love me to be evil, because you will love a goat - Stockholm syndrome.

You are familiar with this splendor of my eyes. I am a black cat that is friends only with darkness.

I was where hunger and pestilence. Expert Grimoria. Do not try to close from me - ALOOHOMOR!

A chair instead of the throne. Wait! Why try to scare me in fear with a cross.

Already too much - to charge the stained trunk with silver. My evil is part

Only the segment of my ego. I am an allusion, on how Bastet turned into a Sehmet.

I was given thousands of names, sorting through hundreds of ways in my mind,

How to protect your white everyday life, sending my soul back into oblivion.

There was a shot in the head, and with a stone - in an ice hole plus above the fire - turned with me.

But death is still better than you in mathematics, because nine minus three is, believe me, not zero.

I marked your house with trouble. You are running everything from fear, and I am behind him, like for food.

At night, not all cats are sulfur, but even the most black walls do not mask me.

But I did not wander, did not indulge the instinct to mimic to the color of enemies.

Be a piece of one pie? Fuck me like a similar progress? Retrograde!

He appointed the harvester a storm, the governor - Furia. Closed for friends - I'm not Moria.

Do not try to torment me in captivity. I will burn, like Vesuvius, I will drown like lemuria.

Yes, I'm a misanthrope. I know the attractiveness of the paths leading to the bottom.

Being ready to study the dark side, you remember - the claws are eighteen, it will hurt!