- Лицензия
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- Над треком работали
- Steve
- Текст
- As you pour yourself a scotch
Crush a roach, or check your watch.
As your hand adjusts your tie,
People die.
In the towns with funny names
Hit by bullets, cought in flames.
By and large not knowing why,
People die.
In small places you don't know
Of, yet big for having no
Chance to scream or say good-bye,
People die.
Too far off to practice love
For thy neighbor/brother Slav
Where your cherubds dread to fly,
People die.
While the statues disagree
Cain's version, history
For its fuel tends to buy
Those who die.
People die as you elect
New apostles of neglect.
Sing your child a lullaby,
People die.
Timee, whose sharp blood-thirsty quill
Parts the killed from those who kill
Will pronounce the latter tribe
As your tribe.
(И.Бродский)