He, who builds the skyscraper, falls down,
It'll be aweful, impetuous flight,
In the deep of a well, in the ground,
He will curse his unusual plight.
A destroyer of course, will be thrown,
Thrown under the falling blocks rain
Left by God in the darkness alone,
He will curse his unusual pain.
He who for a cave and a lantern,
Or for river's back water, forlorn,
Will be met by the eyes of a painter...
And will curse just a day he was born.
You couldn't hide from your fate for
A moment, fate is written in depths of the earth,
But, keep silence: it's a marvelous
Warrant to chose out your kind of the d**h.