Alex andros ΕΓΩ ΝΑ ΔΕΙΣ, ΦΙΛΕ! ΗΜΟΥΝ 11, ΟΤΑΝ ΤΗΝ ΕΜΑΘΑ, ΚΑΙ ΑΠΟ ΤΟΤΕ ΤΗ ΛΑΤΡΕΨΑ ΚΑΙ ΘΑ ΤΗ ΛΑΤΡΕΥΩ ΠΑΝΤΑ. ΦΩΝΗ ΠΟΥ ΣΥΝΔΥΑΖΕΙ ΜΑΓΚΙΑ ΜΕ ΜΕΛΩΔΙΑ. ΕΡΜΗΝΕΙΑ ΠΟΥ ΣΥΓΚΛΟΝΙΖΕΙ ΚΑΙ ΤΡΑΓΟΥΔΙΑ ΠΟΥ ΣΟΥ ΜΙΛΑΝΕ ΣΤΗΝ ΨΥΧΗ.
A pencil in the notebook is the life, is the life of everyone, a rubber band death and tomorrow in an instant everything becomes smoke. A pencil that fades and does not leave not a trace anywhere, a small sign in Hell is lost and does not return. Life is a pencil. A misspelled pencil that faded and my bitter and bitter life, like a strong north wind, my fate destroyed them leaves dry all dreams on earth.
