текст В. Крестовского:
Guest

[verse 1]
Was it a dream or was it real…
He went into his room and didn't recognize her.
It was bright with a lot of burning candles. A set table stood in the middle, and firewood crackled in a red brick fireplace that had come from nowhere.

[verse 2]
- Come in, come in! – said a tall man with a red mustache. – And, please, make yourself at home.
After all, today we have something like a holiday.
"I don't recognize my room," the Flutist was surprised. – Where am I?

"You're in your room," the man replied. "Where else?"
- It's strange…
- Nothing strange. It's just that you probably don't know anything yet.
- I probably don't know.
"Yes..." the man paused for a moment.
- You see, the fact is that you have been sentenced to death, my friend.

[chorus]
- To death? For what?!
- But what does it matter for what? – the redhead was surprised. - A person prepares for death from the very beginning.
Isn't that enough to sentence him to death?!..
Or do you want to object?

[verse 3]
- Tell me, finally, who are you?
- Who am I? – the man asked again.
"Didn't they tell you?"
- No.
- Well, then know that I am the executioner.
- How is it, executioner?
- So, see you soon, - the man smiled.
- Everything is going as it should.

[bridge]
- But what did I do?!
- I don't know, - the man was surprised. — I don't know.
But you must understand. Because it does not matter at all whether you have committed a crime or not.
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