Little baby of silences, not it cry,
To know to him that the your mom was carried to die
Around all my attempts, its Lord, soon more rueber

Too much late, my brothers
Worries too late,
However of all my attempts, Lord, his soon never again rueber

If the religion became a thing which Rich buy
Of the money could, saw was and who arm
All my attempts, Lord, its would die soon more rueber

I have a small book, me given more rueber
And each side freedom
All my attempts was spelled, Lord, his soon

There is a tree in Paradies
And Pilgrims him calls soon the tree of the life
All my attempts, Lord, his more rueber