Текст песни Ольга Горпенко - Подайте больному на морфий

The temple in the porch of the sorrowful
Ragged beggar sitting.
"Give the patient on morphine!" -
The label on the neck hanging.
Hurrying to matins early,
And I was not just passing,
And that was just in pocket
Shamefacedly sufferer away.

Spitting parish prayerful
At the sight of his blasphemy.
And he could not help to protect herself,
I could not explain anything:
Why is he stubborn freak
I sat down with us on the way?
It is the opium of the people
Consider that almost for free.

May God grant you who do not know a miracle,
Do not break out of your prison,
Because when you look out
Spring your bitter winter.
Oh, if only those who are playing,
Lives and chews on the go,
Check that returned from paradise,
You can not poobvyknut in hell.

There was also only recently
From happiness wise head.
A thought is not the main thing again,
Scattered like islands.
As neizrechёnnoe word
The top and crown of the whole -
Swing to the seventh heaven
Creator gave the blind.

Where we elevate swing?
How often do we lie nature?
Indeed if the chasm divided
Creator and His creations?
I stand on my knees, but too late -
Silent altar flame.
Oh, my God, why have you made us?
Really, and you're lonely?

And next to the cemetery crooked
stones are whitish.
Vail sad nettle
arrows on the rusty fence.
"Anamnesis vitae et morbi" -
Whispering repeats foliage.
Give the patient on morphine.
Excuse me for saying this!