Puskin Dead
i dress my shirt ，a white shirt.
i check my gun，my gun.
i shave my beard，softly.
i leave my house，silently

A grave today，an injured bulley now.
It's not a news，and everything die.

The cut my shirt，a red shirt.
They draw so fast，on buckets.
They writre my name，puskin.
They all wait for，my death.

A grave today，an injured bulley now.
It's not a news，and everything die.

A duel today，the end of my life.
It's not a news，and everything lasts

A grave today，an injured bulley now.
It's not a news，and everything die.

A duel today，the end of my life.
It's not a news，and everything lasts

A duel today，the end of my life.
It's not a news，and everything lasts